Slytherin Sky
by Kay Taylor
Summary: NOW COMPLETE Novel-length fic set in Marauders-era Slytherin. LuciusxNarcissa, SnapexLucius, Evan Rosier and Bellatrix Black. Lies, intrigue, love triangles, love potions, and the Dark Arts. Sequel, Slytherin Fire, up at Skyehawke.
1. Prologue

Slytherin Sky.  
  
_Prologue_  
  
Early September at Hogwarts, and the sky was a deep and dramatic blue-grey. Deceptively so, as it was cold outside, the first traces of autumn in the air. A slight scent of fallen leaves carried in on the breeze, a moistness that heralded the start of rainy days and cooler evenings. Term had started a few days ago, and as usual the Quidditch captains had started training their teams early in the mornings, dragon's-breath hot on the cold air as they huddled in pitiful bunches around the pitch listening to the traditional start-of-the-year rant that every captain was obliged to give. Inside the castle, Filch had already handed out his first detention for bringing leaves into the Great Hall, and the fires were always burning in the Gryffindor common room when the team clustered back in after a gruelling morning trying to get used to their new brooms.  
  
In the Slytherin common room, it was never warm. Never comfortingly so. The fire was more to provide atmosphere than anything else, and let off an almost imperceptible greenish tinge that perfectly complemented the stone walls and elaborately carved mahogany chairs. The ideal place to sit around with a few of your friends, boasting about what YOU would do if you ruled the world.  
  
Which, of course, was Lucius Malfoy's favourite pastime. The small group sitting there after classes had heard most of the finer points already -  
  
"Put the Muggles somewhere else. For their own protection." (An unpleasant laugh)  
  
"Build a castle somewhere, bigger than Hogwarts of course, with lots of turrets and pinnacles and a big iron gate. Maybe a few dragons guarding the entrance. Oh, and of course there'd have to be dungeons."   
(Nods of approval)  
  
There were, of course, plans that could not be shared, or maybe only with a select few. Lucius, a true Slytherin himself, trusted very few people with his REAL plans. The ones which were bantered around the Slytherin common room to be met with the approval of his contemporaries sounded important, but he recognised that it was important to have short-term goals as well, and realistic ones.   
  
He was almost eighteen, and he was a Malfoy. That, in itself, made world domination that little bit more achievable.   
  
But the other one, well... that would take some effort.  
  
She was beautiful, there was no denying that. Long, sweeping golden hair, the colour of sun reflected off the Lake, which fell almost down to her waist. She was slender too, almost fragile-looking, with high, aristocratic cheekbones. He didn't know what colour her eyes were - had never been that close to her - but he could imagine them to be blue, the same deep blue as the crisp autumn sky. Lucius had seen her in the corridors and common room for six years now, always just the turn of a corner away, at the top of a flight of stairs when he was at the bottom, entering a class when he was just leaving one. She was a Slytherin of course, he'd hardly have lowered himself to even looking at one of the other houses. She was a Slytherin, one year younger than him, and quite devastatingly beautiful.  
  
But what was more important - she was well-bred, and not in the ridiculous 'having good manners' sense of the word. She was a Black, and that meant her bloodlines were impeccable - generation after generation of pure-blood wizarding families. Not a single drop of Mudblood in her veins, and the Malfoys prized that.  
  
When Lucius saw her, he saw tradition, and heritage, and all the other things which the Slytherins were unwilling to see die out. Pride in the wizarding race, and the power which it wielded. The way she walked, with her head held high, hair streaming out behind her like a golden river, refusing to allow anyone to get in her way, her beauty and her arrogance radiating off her in waves.  
  
Lucius liked that in a girl.


	2. Chapter One

_Chapter_ _One_.  
  
"Narcissa Black," he had announced to the world, throwing himself on the plush velvet sofa in his study, luxuriating in its softness after a hard afternoon's practice on the Quidditch pitch. Lying face up, he had stretched ostentatiously, noting with approval the way his muscles looked, sleek and taut under the flickering of the firelight. Bella's youngest sister.  
  
"Flighty, and stupid, and hardly able to hold her wand straight," his room-mate had replied tersely.   
  
"I think she's really, um, well, I don't - but she is - pretty," Avery had offered. Not as pretty as B-B-Bellatrix, he added quickly, glancing over to where Lestrange was lolling on the carpet.  
  
"Yeah, she's alright. I think my parents were planning to make me marry her at one point," said Lestrange languidly, not looking up from the dagger he was polishing. "The lesser of the Black sisters, of course. Unless you count that frizzy-haired bitch who tried to bite me in first year."  
  
"I've spoken to her once or twice. She seems to have the right - ideas," Rosier had said quietly.   
  
"According to our beloved Bellatrix, she's still afraid of the dark. Even for you, prettiness can only go SO far."  
  
Severus had been sitting in an armchair beside the fire, cross-legged, a huge and dusty-looking book open on his lap. Even from where he was lying, Lucius had noted with approval the wording on the spine - 'Necromancy and Alchemy: a cross-disciplinary approach'. Stealing books from the Restricted Section again, of course. The librarians were putty in Severus's delicate, long-fingered hands.  
  
His room-mate then looked up, and curled his lip in that characteristic sneer. Night-black eyes raked Lucius's face, noting that his previous comments had done nothing to dispel the fanatical gleam in the Malfoy's eyes. Severus had closed the book, and added tartly: "Besides, you can't always get what you want, Lucius. I doubt the poor, witless thing has any idea that you even _exist_, except as someone who eats all the marmalade whenever you're invited chez Black."  
  
Really, after that, it had been practically a challenge.  
  
Lucius _always_ got what he wanted. Maybe it was the blond hair, or the pretty, thoughtful grey eyes, so skillful in hiding what he was actually thinking. Or maybe it was the sheer money he represented, in those well-cut clothes, his father's signet ring gleaming on his index finger. Either way, he knew a damn sight more than Severus about girls. And he was going to prove it, hopefully by letting the dark-haired Slytherin lie awake at night listening to Narcissa's screams of pleasure.  
  
"What do you want _now_, Lucius?"  
  
It was dark in the back room of the library, and it smelled like dead leaves - a faint, dry sort of smell, as if the room was very rarely used. The windows were never opened, and the curtains were usually drawn during the day anyway, to protect the precious and rare volumes from the debilitating effects of sunlight. The only illumination came from flickering lamps mounted on the walls every few paces, not nearly enough to read by.  
  
"God, Sev, if you spend too long in here you're going to turn into a fucking vampire or something." Lucius looked around him. "All this place is missing is a few manacles, maybe a skeleton languishing in the corner or something. Then it would be _really_ homely."  
  
"I'm touched by your concern. And stop calling me Sev." Lucius could tell by the silky lilt to Severus's voice that he was anything BUT touched. Somehow, the angrier Severus was, the more soft-spoken he was. It was an interesting character trait which had been the downfall of several unwary visitors to their shared set of rooms. Wilkes, in particular, seemed to make excuses these days, rather than be on the receiving end.   
  
"You only come in here when you want something. Heaven forbid you should actually be studying." Severus steepled his fingers, his long black hair falling across his eyes. "Let me guess. You've found someone to torture."  
  
Lucius shook his head. "Close, but... no."  
  
Severus arched an eyebrow. "Really? Disappointing. You've thought of a new plan to take over the world, mostly involving you wearing a slinky outfit and riding a dragon."  
  
Lucius couldn't help grinning. "Well, who else would it be? Honestly. _You_ can't even stay on a broomstick."  
  
Severus chose to ignore the barb. "You're meddling in someone's life again, probably making it a _lot_ worse for them."  
  
"Possibly."  
  
"Ah, I see. It's Ms Black the younger again, isn't it? How sweet, you're blushing."  
  
Lucius knew perfectly well that he wasn't blushing and that Severus just wanted him to take the bait. "Oh, it must be lonely for you, all alone in the Restricted Section all day with no-one to bitch at."  
  
Severus dismissed that last comment with a wave of his elegant hand, and returned his attention to the book. Lucius watched him with interest, noting his mannerisms; the distracted way he raked his hair back behind his ears, the almost-conquered habit of biting the corner of his lip whilst working. The table around him was covered with page after page of notes taken in his neat, methodical handwriting, diagrams drawn carefully in the margins. There was no-one else in their year who worked this hard - Severus was in the library (and this section of the library in particular) almost every day after classes, which contributed noticeably to his pallor, almost-white skin a startling contrast against his black hair and dark clothes. Lucius had to think hard to remember when he'd last seen his room-mate on a broomstick, or outside at all for that matter. Severus's world seemed to consist of the classrooms, Slytherin common room, the library, and their small shared study.   
  
"You should come out with us more often. Next week we're planning a trip into London."  
  
That sparked his interest. "Really? Diagon Alley?"  
  
Lucius grinned. He was sure he knew exactly how to drag Severus out of the library. "No, Knockturn Alley actually. I hear they've opened a new bookstore, with a more - ah - liberal attitude towards the Dark Arts. And then there's Aconite's Apothecary - that's always worth a visit - and Buskins and Blackwells, a friend of my father's owns that, they specialise in -"  
  
He could see Severus thinking it over for a few seconds. "All right, Lucius, I'm convinced. But if we get caught by any of the teachers, I'm blaming the whole thing on you."  
  
"Wouldn't expect anything less."  
  
Lucius wondered idly whether Severus really would melt in sunlight, then dismissed the idea. He ran his fingers through his fine, pale blond hair, and wondered the best way to go about this. Silence, apart from the turning of pages and the scratching of Severus's quill. No sounds from the castle outside penetrated this section of the library. It was like a tomb.  
  
"Lucius, what the hell do you want to ask me, you're driving me mad."  
  
Before he could protest, and ask what he was doing - "Breathing!" Severus snarled.  
  
Lucius sighed. "Okay, well I thought since you're so bloody disdainful about Narcissa... anyway. I need a Love Potion, or an Attraction Spell or something. I need to make her notice me. It's six weeks until the Halloween Ball, and my parents are already going crazy that I haven't found a suitable girlfriend."  
  
"By suitable, I assume you mean stupid enough to go out with you," Severus replied curtly. "I find it hard to believe you can't find anyone else in Slytherin who wouldn't jump at the chance. As long as you bought her lots of pretty presents."  
  
"It's not that simple."  
  
For the first time, Severus appeared to give Lucius his undivided attention. He closed the book with a heavy thud - 'Moste Potente Potions' - and folded his arms, appearing lost in thought. Despite many appearances to the contrary - in fact, despite _all_ appearances to the contrary - they weren't room-mates because Lucius had come woefully low in that year's room ballot, despite what he had told everyone. Severus wasn't good at Quidditch, popular, or from a particularly rich family. The Snape castle, from what Lucius had seen of it, seemed to be more 'ruin' than 'castle'. But somehow, the two teenagers didn't hate each other quite as much as they claimed to.  
  
"I hear girls like it when you talk to them instead of zapping them with every heavy-duty spell you know," the dark-haired Slytherin said dryly. "But I'm sure you've tried that."  
  
"Takes too long."  
  
"Ah, the Malfoy need for instant gratification. And the other girls in our year -"  
  
Lucius made a face.  
  
"Quite."  
  
Severus sighed. "Lucius, you don't even know what you're asking. Do you know _anything_ about the potential consequences of a Love Potion? We're not even taught them in Advanced Potions, because they're forbidden by the Ministry of Magic. To use another person like that, pervert their free will - it's almost as specific as an Imperius curse. And they can go wrong - badly. If you're not careful, the person who drinks it will be your slave. Unable to think for themselves. At best, they'll throw themselves at you, at worst, they'll kill themselves over you."  
  
Lucius watched Severus's face with interest as he made this speech. He was speaking dispassionately, as if he was reciting something out of a textbook - which he probably was - but there was something strange about the look in those dark eyes. He wasn't looking at Lucius, but somewhere over his room-mate's head. With a sudden smile, Lucius realised that Severus was actually thinking about it, despite his protestations. He was seeing it as a challenge. Now, if he only pushed the right buttons...  
  
"And that's why I'm asking you, Sev," Lucius said with an air of subtle desperation, leaning back against the desk and folding his arms. "You're the only one here who could do it. I mean, otherwise I'd have asked Lestrange, or Rosier."  
  
The lamps in the library flickered slightly, casting a shadow over Severus's face. Lucius leaned closer, letting a thin shaft of sunlight from the heavily-veiled windows play on his hair, turning it the colour of dawn on frost. Silence. He could see Severus thinking, unconsciously biting his lip, coaxing colour into that pale skin.   
  
"No." Severus said, with an air of finality. "I won't do it. If she's the only girl in Slytherin immune to your, ah, considerable charms, then I won't corrupt her better judgement." He picked up his quill again, dipped it in the ink. "Better you learn that some things you just can't have," he muttered under his breath, turning his attention to the first page of his carefully made notes.  
  
Lucius was stunned. He'd felt Severus so close to giving in... and there was nothing, _nothing_, that a Malfoy 'just couldn't have'.  
  
Severus looked up, a slight sneer curving his lips. "Now, don't you have anywhere better to be? You're breathing too loud."  
  
If it was possible, Lucius was even more stunned. This wasn't going how he planned at all. Their gazes locked, a vicious smile playing on Severus's face. Lucius swore under his breath, and picked up his cloak, draping its soft velvet folds around his shoulders.  
  
"Bastard."  
  
The lamps in the library flickered again as he turned to leave. Severus seemed absorbed in the book again, black hair tumbling down onto the page, obscuring his face.  
  
Just as Lucius got to the door, he delivered his parting shot. "Well, I hope you like sharing a room with Avery."  
  
His room-mate looked up, an expression of slight confusion flitting across his face, to be replaced quickly with a carefully blank look. Lucius smiled slightly. Oh, that had got to him. If there was someone Severus despised out of their little clique, it was the spineless Avery, who had only got where he was by hanging onto Rosier's coat-tails.   
  
"Didn't I mention it? Got a letter from _dear_ father and _darling_ mother this morning. Seems they're getting increasingly edgy at my lack of suitable marriage material. The Lestranges went around for a dinner party the night before, and of course they were all fawning over Bellatrix, and my mother can't _bear_ to be out-done in her social circles. So, it's a simple ultimatum: find a suitable girl, or I might just be transferred to Durmstrang to make lovely little friends like Rabastan I'm-completely-psychotic Black."   
  
He turned back, and started to pace around the room. The Blacks are the oldest family here. Bellatrix, already taken. That one with the stupid name and awful hair hangs around with the Ravenclaws. Which leaves, whichever way you look at it, Narcissa. And even you can't pretend she's ugly, either.  
  
Severus took this in with a curt nod. He paused, an exasperation mixed with thoughtfulness in his eyes.  
"No, I can't promise anything, Lucius," he said after a long and protracted silence. "I'd really advise you to concentrate on winning the girl using your own - as I'm sure you know - not entirely insubstantial talents. Love spells _are_ difficult, and -"  
  
"So you'd rather share a room with Avery than do one simple task for me?" Lucius demanded, his lips curling. "That's pretty low, Sev. Just because there's no way you could _possibly_ understand -"  
  
Severus's face remained impassive. "The answer is no, Lucius. And you can appeal to my ego, my better nature or my desire to keep our study furnished in your family's rather fetching tapestries, but I won't do it."  
  
Lucius laughed. It wasn't a friendly sound. Well, if that was the way Severus wanted to play it... "Yes, you will." He tossed something onto the desk. "Here's a picture of the girl. I'll bring you a few strands of her hair."  
  
Severus studied the photograph for a few minutes, his eyes unreadable. He looked up at Lucius, appeared to be about to say something, then changed his mind. Lucius leant against the polished mahogany of the door frame, idly running his hands over the carvings, sending dust spilling to the floor. Yes, this room did suit Severus. It was dark, and secret, and totally closed off to people who didn't have the right password. He swore under his breath, and turned to go. He knew that Severus would end up making the potion, just as he knew that one day he would have Narcissa Black. The devil was in the details.  
  
"Close the door on your way out," Severus called after him, his voice silky.  
  
Lucius briefly considered casting a quick Incendio on a well-chosen pile of Severus's notes, but regretfully dismissed the thought. His room-mate would probably reduce him to ashes without even looking up from the book he was buried in. He muttered something quietly, then slammed the door loudly.  
  
Severus closed the book a few minutes later, and sighed. True, it would be amusing to make a Love Potion to bewitch that wretched Black girl, who probably deserved a pure-blooded snob like Lucius. It would be gratifying to watch her throw herself helplessly at his room-mate's feet in front of the whole school and beg for just one kiss. It would certainly shatter her insufferable air of superiority, which irked him more than anything else about her.  
  
She was beautiful, there was no denying that. The photograph showed her at the previous year's Halloween Ball, on the arm of some anonymous Slytherin with a weak chin, obviously another inbred idiot. She was wearing a long black dress which fell away at the shoulders to reveal alabaster skin, her hair coiled up in sinuous curves at the back of her head, pinned with a diamond clasp. The people around her were talking, but she wasn't. She looked vaguely bored, as though the people around here were incredibly dull but she was too polite to let it show - much.   
  
She would look perfect with Lucius, Severus mused. They were both tall, blond, slender and far too rich for their own good. Unbidden, a picture of Lucius stretched out on the couch a few days before came to the front of his mind - that aristocratic slouch, effortless poise, upper-class enough to know that anything he did would look good. Yes, the two of them would be fantastic together. She probably already had her own central place in Lucius's world-domination fantasy.   
  
Everything Lucius wanted, he got - without even trying. It drove Severus mad. Of course, Lucius was the Malfoy family's only son, and Severus was the last in a line of wizards which, though pure-blood, were poverty-stricken and not particularly well known. While Severus had to work for excellence, sometimes staying up all night to turn in a flawless essay on Potions or Defence Against the Dark Arts - the only two subjects taught by a Slytherin - Lucius could dash off a mediocre half-scroll of parchment and be praised for most of the lesson about it. While Lucius was always the leader of their little group, Severus had always been the one which no-one trusted - fair enough, admirable Slytherin instincts - who had somehow become the leader's closest friend and confidante.  
  
Privately, Severus was sick of Lucius always getting his own way. And maybe failing to attract Narcissa Black's attention was just the lesson he needed.   
  
"Nox," he murmured, gathering up his books, the library lights dimming around him, shrouding the room in shadows. Almost as an afterthought, he pulled a few books out of a section marked 'Forbidden Potions, Charms and Curses' on the way out.   
  
No harm in a bit of background reading, was there? And it would only irk him further if Lucius dared to suggest he didn't know how to do a Love Potion anyway...  
  
Lucius was lying on the sofa in the middle of their study when Severus finally walked through the door from the common room. He was gratified to see that the dark-haired Slytherin did not, as he had expected, instantly throw the photograph of Narcissa back at him. Interesting... but his room-mate did indeed stalk straight past as though he wasn't there, his arms full of books, black velvet cloak billowing around him, to disappear into his own room.   
  
Bellatrix arched an eyebrow. "What's Severus so moody about?"  
  
"When's he _not_ moody?" Lucius drawled, studying the chessboard which was perched on the sofa between them. He was winning, but only just. Bellatrix looked regal as she leant back against the cushions, regarding Lucius with green, heavy-lidded eyes. "It's nearly curfew. You should be heading off, unless..."  
  
"Lucius, stop flirting with Bellatrix," Severus's voice floated through from the other room, in a tone designed to cause him maximum discomfort. Subtly mocking, yet enough to make him roll his eyes and wish that he shared a room with anyone else, even a Hufflepuff.   
  
"I am _not_ flirting with Bellatrix," Lucius shot back. "We're playing chess."  
  
Severus appeared in the doorway, brushing black hair out of his eyes, looking elegantly amused. "Oh, and the black silk pyjamas are absolutely _crucial_ to your strategy, of course. As is that delightfully dishevelled thing you've done with your hair."  
  
Lucius groaned inwardly at Bellatrix's sudden derisive smile.   
  
He counted to ten... very slowly... after she left.  
  
"Why the fuck did you have to do that?"  
  
"That was for making my notes invisible. And I'm still not making you that Love Potion." Severus disappeared into his room, slamming the door behind him loudly enough to make the windows rattle slightly.


	3. Chapter Two

_Chapter Two.  
_  
Lucius groaned. "Two scrolls of parchment? In our second week back? What was the title again?"  
  
"Discuss the Inter-Species Accords, with reference to the diplomatic role of the Ministry of Magic," Severus replied.   
  
The corridors were full of students heading out of their last classes of the day, some carrying vast piles of books, some already in their Quidditch kit, all talking loudly. Most of them would get out of the way as the two final-year Slytherins walked past, and those who didn't were rewarded with a scathing look from Severus and - what was worse, for the female members of Hogwarts - a disapproving one from Lucius.   
  
He was wearing new robes, sent express owl by his parents earlier that week, no doubt in a last-ditch attempt to boost his eligibility before sending him to Durmstrang. They swished along the floor with a soft velvet whisper, cut carefully to emphasise his lean but muscled frame, the plush blackness making his hair look even whiter than normal. It was hardly surprising that so many admiring looks came his way - even from the Gryffindors. Severus walked beside him, silent as a shadow, and about as noticed.   
  
Severus glanced across at Lucius, who was still complaining about the amount of homework that Professor Binns had set them, how he didn't realise that his students had more important things to do than write essays, how History of Magic was an entirely useless subject - the same rant that Severus had heard infinite variations upon over the course of his seven years at Hogwarts. He sighed inwardly, and made a mental note to be prepared for the inevitable temper tantrum the night before the homework was due.  
  
At least Lucius seemed to have forgotten about the whole Love Potion business. He hadn't stopped going on about Narcissa Black, but he hadn't said anything more specifically to Severus, which was a relief.  
  
They took a short cut along the Upper Gallery, light spilling in through the tall, narrow windows, creating stripes of sunbeams and shade. Beneath them, they could see the Quidditch pitches, and the sound of a whistle being blown drifted up as they walked by. The intermittent light turned Lucius's hair a strange, luminous shade of gold, making his skin seem paler than usual. The blond-haired Slytherin interrupted his own tirade against ghosts in general, teachers in general, and Professor Binns in particular.  
  
"Hey, Sev, come and watch the practice game this afternoon. We're going to wipe the pitch with Hufflepuff - they're so bad, it's fucking hilarious."   
  
Severus opened his mouth to say 'no' and stop calling me Sev, _Lucy_', then stopped, thinking about it. The Slytherin team included a lot of their friends; Lucius was Seeker, naturally (even though, truth be told, he wasn't really that talented - Severus privately thought Bellatrix would have been a much better Seeker, but she had been relegated to Chaser, probably for the unparalleled crime of being female), Rosier was the second Chaser, and Lestrange was the Keeper. Severus could very rarely be bothered to go out and watch them showing off to each other on their brooms, brand new every term, courtesy of their parents.   
  
He supposed it was his duty to turn up and support the golden boy, every once in a while. The last few pages of Moste Potente Potions would have to wait until that evening.   
  
"I will."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Oh, don't look so amazed, Lucius. I don't actually melt in sunlight, you know." Silently condemning himself to an afternoon in the midst of a gaggle of screaming Slytherin girls, he sighed. "Just don't expect me to be waving a banner with your name on it."  
  
Lucius smirked at the image. "It's nice to know you care, Sev." They had almost reached the long spiral staircase which led down to the Slytherin rooms, and Lucius handed his room-mate a few books and his hideously ostentatious eagle-feather quill. "I'll see you on the pitch in a few minutes, then."  
  
Severus sighed again, and walked down the staircase carefully, being sure to avoid the step that was only there on alternate Wednesdays. It really did look as though Lucius was letting go of the whole Love Potion idea, which was a definite improvement. And the idea of spending an afternoon with the Slytherin clique and their egos was almost appealing, for amusement value if nothing else.  
  
"Aconite," he murmured, brushing slender fingers over a seemingly blank stretch of wall. A concealed door slid open, revealing the dimly lit interior of their common room, the light from the green lamps flickering slightly as they swung in the breeze from the open door.  
  
He took one look around the room, and groaned inwardly.  
  
She was sitting in one of the high-backed armchairs near the fire, long blonde hair spilling over the dark wood like cream on chocolate cake. Severus recognised her at once from the photograph. That same bored expression, a studied indifference that would take her far in the world. Her eyes, he was amused to note, were indeed as blue as they were in Lucius's rapturous descriptions. She was, of course, beautiful - and surprisingly, in fact startlingly, unlike dark-haired Bellatrix. Unfortunately, she also looked as though she was well aware of it. And... was that a _book_ she was holding? It struck him as laughably out of character for someone who probably had no greater demands on her intelligence than her monthly clothes budget.  
  
Just to be perverse, Severus decided against approaching her directly. Her appearance in the common room, when normally all the Slytherin girls would have been outside giggling at Lucius's shiny new broom and the heroic way his hair streamed out behind him, made him curious. He wondered idly just how difficult it would be to get that single strand of hair... of course, he was well capable of making the potion. But he'd be damned if he was going to be the instrument of Lucius getting his own way, _again_.  
  
"Narcissa Black. Now, what could you possibly be doing inside on a beautiful autumn day like this?"  
  
To her credit, Narcissa didn't flinch - much - as Severus appeared right next to her chair, robes almost soundless on the smooth stone floor. She fixed him with cool blue eyes, a slow smile creeping across her face. A secret smile.   
  
"I'm reading. Thought I'd catch up with a little Defence Against the Dark Arts." She turned the book so he could see the spine, and he noted with a start that it was from the Restricted Section. His surprise obviously registered on his face, because her smile deepened. "Thought you were the only one with the password? Or maybe you're wondering if I've ever got beyond the title page."  
  
Severus was forced to admit to himself that he'd been thinking just that. She looked at him coolly, twisting a strand of golden-blond hair around her finger.  
  
"Besides, I wanted to get some peace." She laughed self-deprecatingly. "And because a certain blond someone has taken to stalking my every waking moment, I can hardly concentrate in the library. Maybe you shouldn't have given Lucius the password to the Restricted Section? It would make it so much quieter. Just a thought."  
  
Severus spent the afternoon in a foul mood, which worsened when he walked into their study after Quidditch practice and found an owl sitting on his bed, the window open, a few fallen leaves strewn across the room.  
  
He was even more surprised to see that the owl appeared to have brought him a leather-bound book entitled 'Enchantments and Bewitchments: A Practical Guide'. A book so rare that even Hogwarts library could not afford to buy a copy, relying instead on the more basic 'Experimental Guide'. He picked it up, turned it over. The front cover was stamped with a gold-leaf crest, a capital B entwined with small yellow flowers. Underneath the book was a small note.  
  
'Severus,  
  
I've changed the password. It's now Floreat Slytherin. Please don't tell Lucius.  
  
Narcissa.'  
  
It was early evening in Severus and Lucius's study, the night before the History of Magic essay was due. Lucius was slouched along the window seat, piles of books and other people's essays around him. He sighed deeply, trying hard to concentrate on Severus's minute writing under the reddish-pink light of the sunset which streamed in from the west, glinting off the towers and flagpoles of the Quidditch pitch. His efforts were not helped by the constant low murmur of voices in the background.  
  
"Ha! Knight takes bishop." That was Lestrange, who was sitting cross-legged on the sofa next to Bellatrix, directing his chess-men like a miniature army.  
  
"How do you spell 'insurrection'?" Avery wanted to know, sucking absent-mindedly on the tip of his quill, staining his lips a particularly vivid shade of blue. Lucius was heartened to know that if anyone got a worse mark than him on the essay from Professor Binns, it would doubtless be Avery.  
  
"I saw that coming, you know." Bellatrix shot back at Lestrange, her eyes fiery. She lowered her face to study the chessboard, dark chocolate-brown hair falling down to conceal her expression. Lucius grinned to himself - Lestrange hadn't a hope in hell of beating her.  
  
"Severus, was the uprising in 1465 causal or consequential to the Accords?" Rosier enquired. Like Lucius, he was perched on a window-seat, his dark eyes thoughtful. A few books were open nearby, passages underlined, and Lucius could see - with growing disquiet - that he was nearly at the end of his second roll of parchment. And worse, Lucius had no idea that there had even been an uprising in 1465, let alone one that was relevant to the Inter-Species Accords. Like Severus, Rosier fitted easily into the category of 'too clever for his own good'.  
  
Severus was seated next to the fire, as usual, buried in a small green leather-bound book. He looked momentarily irritated at the interruption, but as soon as he registered that it was Rosier, the expression cleared. His face was half-hidden in shadow, making him look slightly more sinister than usual, his hair and robes merging seamlessly with the darkness around him. "Causal, because they forced the Ministry's hand. It took the capture of Godric's Hollow by dissident werewolves to persuade Anastasia Redcloak to sign the final agreement."  
  
Rosier nodded, and his quill flew across the paper again. Lucius yawned, looking at the clock. Half past seven, it was still light outside and he was sitting writing a History of Magic essay. Life just wasn't fair. He briefly entertained the thought of asking Severus to help him, but quickly quashed it. His room-mate was notorious for refusing point blank to do other people's work for them. And Lucius would rather die than ask Rosier, with the paint still fresh on his family crest, for help on an essay.   
  
"So, any luck on asking Narcissa to the Halloween Ball, Malfoy?" Lestrange asked as Bellatrix swiped a few more of his pieces off the board. "I saw her in Hogsmeade the other day, and she didn't seem as - overjoyed - as someone who's going to the Ball with you _should_ look."  
  
Lucius smiled. "Flatterer." He slid down off the window seat, rolling up his one-and-a-half scrolls of parchment, promising himself that he'd finish them in the morning. "It's early days yet. In two week's time, she'll be the happiest girl in Hogwarts."  
  
He thought he caught Severus muttering something, but chose to ignore it. Perching on the arm of the sofa, he regarded the chess board with interest. Bellatrix was certainly winning, but Lestrange hadn't realised it yet.   
  
In reality, getting Narcissa alone to talk to her was a problem. In the library, there were too many people around; Lucius was just paranoid enough, as a Slytherin, to have an innate distrust of showing his hand too early. In the corridors after lessons, she was always with a small, tightly knit group of female friends, who all nudged each other furiously and giggled as he passed, but none of them had ever actually had the nerve to talk to him. In the Great Hall, she always sat just far enough down the table to make striking up a conversation impossible, but not far enough to stop him seeing her. He wondered if she chose that place on purpose, where he could just catch the golden-blonde of her hair out of the corner of his eye, hear her quiet, self-possessed voice whenever there was a lull in the conversation. Lucius understood how to bide his time, but this was getting ridiculous.  
  
He had tried to talk to Severus about it, but besides offering a few snide remarks on the mating rituals of the upper classes, his room-mate hadn't been much help. He hadn't breached the subject of the Love Potion again, but it was beginning to look more and more like it was the only way. Lucius sighed inwardly. How embarrassing, when half of Slytherin was swooning over him on a regular basis.  
  
"Who are you taking to the Ball, Avery?" Lestrange asked, probably to distract attention from the fact that Bellatrix had now picked off all his bishops and was rounding in on his Queen. Avery jumped, and more ink dribbled down onto his shirt.  
  
"Um, I - I'm not sure, but - mother and father say I should take Clarissa."  
  
Lestrange appeared to consider it, nodding thoughtfully. Clarissa was a fourth year Slytherin, with slightly frizzy hair and an unfortunate caste to her pale brown eyes. But, she came from a wealthy family with a castle in the Scottish Highlands, her father was on the Hogwarts Board of Governors... "Avery, she's your cousin," Lestrange stated with finality.  
  
"Yuck," Lucius drawled. "Still, could be worse - she could be your sister." Lestrange smirked, and Avery looked chagrined. "Then she'd even look like you, as well. What a _perfect_ couple."  
  
Avery went scarlet, and muttered something about their two families not being closely related.   
  
"Avery," Lucius went on, enjoying himself, "Her dowry would probably consist of a teapot which her mother borrowed from your mother twenty years ago. Wouldn't that be sweet? You could have a 'family of the bride' photograph, and a - hang on, you wouldn't _need_ a 'family of the groom' photograph..."  
  
"I fail to see how that would be any different from the rest of Slytherin," Severus interjected. "I think I'm the only person in this room you - or Bellatrix - _aren't_ related to in some way or another, Lucius."  
  
"Yes, but I'm not taking any of you to the Ball, am I?" Lucius stretched languidly and returned to the window seat, stacking the forgotten books haphazardly on the desk. "Rosier, who are you taking?"  
  
The dark-haired boy on the other window seat looked up from the final line of his essay. "I don't know yet," he said quietly. "I haven't really thought about it."  
  
Lucius nodded approvingly. Out of the group, only Lestrange had a 'girlfriend' in the strictest sense of the word, and Lucius was determined to keep it that way. Bellatrix fit in with them - for a girl - and he was damned if he was going to see Rosier with a partner for the Ball when he hadn't even managed to approach Narcissa yet. It wasn't as if Rosier's family was poor, exactly. The previous summer, Lucius had spent a pleasant few weeks hunting on the family estates in Oxfordshire with him. However, some things about it had been wrong. No house elves, for a start. The family flag flying over what they laughably termed 'the gatehouse'. The gleaming new silver at dinner. Slytherin house would never accept new money, but Rosier's family came dangerously close.  
  
"No need to ask you, Lestrange..." Lucius arched an elegant eyebrow at Bellatrix... "Or you, Bellatrix. But there is a mystery in this room, an undiscovered gem, a charm and wit previously unknown to the ladies of Slytherin house..."  
  
"No, I'm not going to the Ball, Lucius," Severus snapped.   
  
"You see what they're missing?" Lucius asked the others in a solicitous tone of voice. "That verve, that - passion..."  
  
"Lucius..."  
  
Lucius heard the warning, and sidling over to the sofa where the other three were now sitting, dropped his voice lower. "Has you-know-who been asking you about Sev, too?" he asked Lestrange. The other boy nodded. "Avery?" He nodded as well.   
  
"Yeah, she asked me to put in a good word for her," Bellatrix said sotto voce. "Tried telling her that there _was_ no such thing as a good word, as far as he's concerned."  
  
Lucius sighed, lowering his voice further still. "Well, we've got to get him to come to the Ball somehow. Much as I hate to admit it, he IS the sort of person who'd look good in evening wear."  
  
"Not as good as you do," Bellatrix purred. Lestrange gave her a dangerous look. "Or you, of course."  
  
"In fact," Lestrange continued, "Quite a few girls seem to have been making - ah - inquiries."  
  
Lucius frowned. "Really?"  
  
"Really."  
  
Lucius looked over to the fire, where Severus was deep in his book again. He gave him an appraising stare. Long black hair which gleamed slightly in the flickering light, but nothing that a good wash - no, make that _several_ good washes - wouldn't do wonders for. Pale skin, maybe even paler than his own. Eyes that were definitely not as expressive, nor as alluring as his, but black and mysterious all the same. Robes hiding a slender, graceful body. Oh, and his nose was a little too long, but in a certain light (very, very dark) that could lend an aristocratic profile. Lucius made a mental note to watch out for Severus. He wasn't a Malfoy, but he wasn't exactly ugly, either.  
  
Rosier put down his pen, and started blowing the parchment dry. Lucius watched him, irritated by his smugness. Maybe an Invisible Ink spell would take him down a peg or two. Unaware of his scrutiny, Rosier slid off the window seat and wandered over to the fire, leaning over to see what Severus was reading.  
  
"The Practical Guide? That's not even in the Restricted Section," he said quietly, mild curiosity in his soft-spoken voice. He studied the cover. "Where did you get it from?"  
  
"Oh, it's a family heirloom," Severus murmured, turning another page.  
  
"Really?" Rosier frowned, appearing to examine the crest. "Because -"  
  
Lucius had had enough. "Oh, be quiet Rosier," he said angrily. "The Snape family have a library bigger than your family's supposed 'gatehouse', and about three hundred years older at that."  
  
Rosier raised his eyebrows, but refused to rise to the bait, instead slipping out of the door into the common room, letting it close behind him with a soft click. Lucius met Severus's hostile glare with one of his own, and held it for a good few seconds before looking away.   
  
Lucius almost choked. Luckily, he caught himself in time, turning it into a cough.   
  
"Are you okay, Lucius?" Narcissa asked sweetly, slipping into the chair next to him, tossing her hair back over her shoulders so that it fell in a long shimmering sheet over the pale blue of her shirt. "You don't mind me sitting here, do you? But all the other chairs are taken."  
  
That was odd. Looking down the table, Lucius met the eyes of a cluster of Slytherin sixth-year girls, all looking as though they were trying very hard not to laugh. They were all sitting exactly one place closer to him than they would normally, apparently forcing Narcissa to sit on his right-hand side, opposite Bellatrix. He noticed that her older sister was looking at her decidedly coolly. Interesting.  
  
"It's a pleasure," he murmured, in that soft undertone which had captivated so many girls over the course of six years at Hogwarts. "May I?" He reached slightly across her to get a pitcher of water, noting distractedly that she smelled of something light, floral and very expensive. He made a mental note to find out from Bellatrix what the scent was, and whether any could be bought in Hogsmeade. Inwardly admiring how steady his hands were, he poured her a glass, then one for himself.   
  
She hardly spoke to him through the entire course of the meal.   
  
She discussed the social events of the previous summer - "Of course, I said I hadn't got anything to _wear_, so mother just simply _had_ to take me to Paris, there's this lovely little shop just off the Champs d'Elysees," - with a wide-eyed first-year girl sitting to her right; the possibilities of a career in the Ministry as an Unspeakable with Lestrange - "Because of course I'd _love_ to do that sort of thing, you'd get to travel so much, and go to receptions in all the foreign ministries," and finally, most galling of all, her Potions homework with Severus of all people, over Lucius's head.   
  
"It hardly bubbled - well, it sort of hissed, but then it went scarlet -"  
  
"Yes, of course, that's the serpent's blood reacting with the nettles - but I suppose you knew that, Miss Black?"   
  
Lucius could tell that Severus was merely mocking her so subtly that she didn't realise it, but it still galled him to see his future partner to the Halloween Ball happily discussing her studies with his quiet, introverted and downright vicious room-mate. He glanced over at Bellatrix, to see whether she had noticed this, and saw that she too was engrossed in Severus and Narcissa's little chat. He caught her eye, and she smiled. He frowned; it looked as though she was making fun of him.  
  
"Don't worry," she mouthed across the table, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "You're still as gorgeous as always. Taste can't always run in the family."  
  
Lucius shot her an angry look - her sentiments hit a little too close to home for comfort. Narcissa suddenly turned around, and for a brief moment he felt a flicker of hope; fighting down the intrinsic Malfoy desire to preen, he offered to pour her a glass of water. She accepted prettily. Lucius could suddenly feel Bellatrix's eyes on the back of his neck, and frowned slightly.   
  
"Did I hear you say that you'd been to Paris over the summer? How did you find it?"  
  
Narcissa yawned. "Crowded, but pretty. Too full of Muggles." He rewarded her with a slow smile. Very good. "I prefer the south, though. All those hills, it's so different from stuffy old London."  
  
"Where -"  
  
She met him with a smile of her own. "Ah, now that would be telling. I know where you live, though. The Malfoys have the most beautiful manor in Britain."  
  
He accepted the compliment to his family gracefully. Yes, very good. "Have you ever been invited by my parents?" He tried to make it sound like a casual, throw-away comment, when in reality it was a crucial testing of the waters. He leaned back in his chair, letting his ice-blond hair sweep down over the nape of his neck, catching the light.   
  
Narcissa appeared to consider. "No, I don't think I've ever had the pleasure. Though, of course, I would be delighted." His eyes met hers, and he found a sort of complicity there. They were blue, of course, as he'd imagined them, the colour of the sky at high noon in summer. Before he had time to press his advantage - he was considering resting his hand on the back of her chair, a small gesture but so full of nuances if one knew how to read them - Narcissa turned away again.  
  
To Severus.  
  
Lucius almost snarled, but bit it back. The girl was clearly crying out for attention. And she was going to get it... but maybe not in the way she expected. After all, how had could a Love Potion be? With all the books that Severus left lying around... Lucius's lip curled.  
  
"Excuse me," Lucius said icily, and left the table, Bellatrix's amused eyes following him all down the length of the Great Hall.


	4. Chapter Three

_Chapter Three._  
  
Three weeks to the Halloween Ball, and counting.   
  
Lucius sighed, almost inaudibly. Well, it wasn't as if he hadn't _tried_. There had been roses delivered to Narcissa's dormitory almost daily. Owls bearing expensive boxes of gift-wrapped chocolates. Even, a few days ago, a bottle of that elusive and oh-so-maddening perfume she wore. But still, whenever he tried to talk to her, she seemed uninterested.  
  
There had been moments. Times when her blue eyes had met his without a trace of their usual languid mockery, and he'd thought he saw just a glimpse, a tantalising taste, of the fires within. Times when he'd touched her, never quite by accident, and his skin would tingle long afterwards from their contact, unbelievably sensitised. He'd followed her subtly, never letting her see him, slinking around corners with his devastating Malfoy grace, watching her like a predator would eye up his prey.  
  
But still, no response. Any other girl in Slytherin would have been a helpless puddle on the floor by now.   
  
He'd tried everything in his considerable arsenal, and met with cool amusement at each turn. She seemed so secretive. He wanted to be the one to discover that secret.  
  
"Brooding again, Lucius?" Severus's voice cut into his thoughts, startling him back to reality. He looked around, noticing that the windows which had - only a few minutes ago, it seemed - opened onto peachy washes of sunset gold, now looked onto indigo dusk. Severus was perched on the window seat, cool dark eyes narrowed.   
  
"The Halloween Ball," Lucius drawled.  
  
"Ah."  
  
There was silence, except for the faint ticking of the clock over the mantlepiece.   
  
"Lestrange is getting noticeably jumpy now," Severus said quietly. "Maybe you should be more discreet in your attentions." He stretched slowly. Stop fucking his girlfriend, for example.  
  
Lucius sneered. "He doesn't _know_ anything, Sev. And what's he going to do? Have it told all around Slytherin that Bella prefers blonds?"  
  
Severus's voice was calm, thoughtful. He looked at Lucius for a few moments, then replied: "All the same, Lucius. Be careful."  
  
Silence again.  
  
Severus appeared to be no less lost in his thoughts than Lucius. The dark-haired Slytherin sat with his chin cupped in his hands, staring across the room at the fire, eyes dark and unreadable. His black hair fell across his face and rested on his shoulders, gleaming slightly where it was caught by the candlelight. He looked vaguely oriental to Lucius, sitting elegant and bare-footed on the rich purple and crimson cushions, austere and dark himself in plain black linen.  
  
A surprising number of girls had come up to Lucius, Bellatrix or Lestrange, stammering and blushing, to ask whether Severus had a partner for the Ball yet. Bellatrix had had to break it to them, in the nicest possible way, that going to the Ball with Severus would be rather like taking a spitting cobra in a dinner jacket.  
  
"Sev -"  
  
The look that his room-mate shot him was enough to make Lucius stop in his tracks. "_No_, Lucius. If I have to come to the Ball -" and Severus managed to imply with a slight curl of the lip that this was by no means a foregone conclusion, "Then I don't see why I should suffer several hours of frivolous chatter from the painted lips of some inane pureblood." He frowned slightly, and Lucius thought he could hear a faint pang of something - regret? - as he added: "My parents don't keep such tight checks on me. They have no interest in who I'm seen with."  
  
Lucius frowned. "All the same, Sev..."  
  
"Yes, Lucius," Severus's voice was mocking now. "After you've finished choosing my partner, would you like to choose my outfit and style my hair as well? World domination, one step at a time..."  
  
"Yes, and my reign of terror starts when I braid your hair and put ribbons in it." Lucius's voice was every bit as caustic. "God, Sev, why do you have to be such a fucking kill-joy?" He leaned back in the voluminous cushions, swinging his boots up onto the sofa, which Severus raised an eyebrow at. "It's not as though you haven't got the choice - girls have been coming up to us for weeks now! It's your own fault they're all too bloody scared to approach you in person."  
  
"I can't help it if the stupidity or wilful blindness of these girls forces you to act as my social secretary. It might be an exercise in ego-taming," Severus said acidly.  
  
Lucius gave him the finger, and went back to cleaning under the tips of his nails with his penknife.   
  
"Show-off," Severus muttered, just loud enough for Lucius to hear. Lucius gave him the finger again. "Oh, get over yourself, Malfoy." Severus slid off the window seat, and disappeared into his room, half-closing the door behind him.  
  
"Night, Sev darling! Sweet dreams!"  
  
"Oh, grow up Lucius." Severus's head appeared around the door again, his eyes suddenly serious. "By the way, I meant what I said about Bellatrix. Lestrange is just _looking_ for a reason to have your head on a plate."  
  
Lucius feigned shock and astonishment. "My, Sev, I never knew you cared."  
  
His room-mate smirked. "I'd love to say that I did, but I blatantly don't. I just don't want to share a room with Avery. And the mirror in our bathroom appears to have fallen in love with you."  
  
Lucius preened. After all, who wouldn't be in love with him? But that only reminded him of Narcissa, and the fact that it would take at least another week to collect the final ingredients for the Love Potion. His parents - no questions asked, thankfully, as they were obviously glad he was doing _something_ about his embarrassing single status - were sending a vial of Phoenix Breath by return owl. At least, he hoped that this was the missing ingredient; he'd had to borrow Rosier's notes on some flimsy excuse, and the softly-spoken Slytherin's handwriting wasn't nearly as neat as his room-mate's.  
  
No chance of asking Severus for help, either. Damn. He looked over at the half-closed door, the initials 'S.S' burnt into the wood with an attractive flourish, and wondered whether Severus could do with a Love Potion himself.  
  
Severus sighed deeply, stretching out on the bed. He was reading by the last few glimmers of sunlight, unwilling to move from the soft smooth velvet of his bedcover - embroidered, of course, with the Slytherin crest - in order to retrieve his wand from the dresser and cast Lumos. The sun swam in through the high windows, slanting across the open book, picking out in gold and burnished yellow the Black family crest on its cover. He looked at his watch. Half past nine. He hadn't yet heard Lucius go into his room, so he presumed that his blond room-mate was still brooding in the study.   
  
Then he heard the door to the study creak open, and light footsteps in the passageway, as though someone was sidling around the door. The sound of material swishing, then -  
  
"_God_! Don't _do_ that - I - ah..."  
  
A giggle. Definitely female. Definitely not Bellatrix, who was really more of the 'slow, evil smile' type. The sound of Lucius clearing his throat. Severus was intrigued. Who would visit their study in the evening, other than the Slytherin clique, the Inner Circle?  
  
Another giggle. "Sorry, Lucius, did I startle you?" The sound of Lucius catching his breath. "It's just that you were asleep, and I wanted to surprise you..." Bare feet on polished wooden floorboards, the faint swish of expensive silk. It was Narcissa.  
  
Severus raised an eyebrow, and changed his position on the bed. Through the half-open door he could see the brief golden flash of stunningly blonde hair, the shimmer of sky-blue pyjamas, Lucius trying to regain some of his composure. Severus had rarely seen Lucius look so taken aback; the presence of the girl he had been ruthlessly stalking for weeks in his private study clearly called for a strategy re-think. But he did it smoothly, leaning back against the cushions, crossing his legs.   
  
"Would you care for a drink?" Typical Lucius. No interest in finding out what she was doing there - because the answer would probably be so unlikely as to be a complete waste of time. Narcissa nodded, and Lucius murmured a few words under his breath.   
  
How long had Narcissa been visiting Lucius after curfew in their private study?  
  
Narcissa settled down into the cushions beside Lucius, and Severus had a moment to reflect on how _right_ they looked together; both white-blond, with pale skin and shimmering eyes. Insubstantial almost, in the flickering light of the last embers of the fire. A pair of ghosts, holding glasses of blood-red wine. Lucius's arm had curled around the back of the sofa, a few inches away from Narcissa's shoulders, where the wide neck of the pyjamas was exposing alabaster skin.   
  
Severus managed to screen out most of what was being said; he always found that dialogue was the least important thing when watching people together. More telling was the way Lucius looked at Narcissa - at some point in time, academic interest in her blood-line and how pretty she would look on his arm at the Ball had clearly metamorphosed into something more. He looked at her not only as a potential acquisition, but with genuine interest. Severus could almost feel the tension in his room-mate's body, a near-tangible spark when Narcissa leant back briefly and her back touched Lucius's arm. Narcissa was clearly flirting; wide eyes, expressive mouth. She was beautiful, he noted almost drily.   
  
Lucius looked slightly uncomfortable. "Oh, is it hard Lucius? Not getting what you want, and not getting it when you want it?" Severus murmured. He could sense a latent frustration in the air, which intrigued him.   
  
He'd seen Lucius wade knee-deep in Slytherin admirers. This was different.  
  
The light shimmered on Narcissa's indecently thin silk pjyamas, making them almost translucent, revealing tantalising glimpses of smooth pale skin. She laughed throatily, leaning slightly forward, hand brushing Lucius's chest as if by accident. Severus bit his lip as Lucius leaned forward himself, hand sliding towards Narcissa's bare shoulder, almost too stealthy to notice. Bit his lip and looked away, because there was nothing in the world that he wanted less than to be a party to another one of Lucius's smooth seductions. There had been too many nights of stifled moans and expectant silences in their set of rooms already, and Severus hated it. He put down his book, intending to close the door and silence the room beyond with a well-chosen charm, born out of bitter practice.  
  
"Actually, I didn't intend to stay long," Narcissa said, moving back from Lucius, shrugging her shoulders in a way that made her hair fall down her back like a sheet, making the silk slip down a few more inches. Lucius raised an eyebrow, obviously unwilling to believe that someone could attempt to turn him down _that_ nonchalently.  
  
"Really?" his voice lowered almost to a whisper. "It hasn't seemed long."  
  
Narcissa rolled her eyes. "I've got a Enchantments test tomorrow morning - straight after breakfast, so I'll have to get up early. The usual mouse-into-pincushion thing."  
  
"Fascinating," Lucius drawled. "So if you didn't come to enjoy my company - " he paused slightly, no doubt to give her time to take in the sight that was him sprawled out on the velvet couch, blond hair artfully tousled against the crimson fabric, "As fully as you could..." his words holding a thinly veiled promise, "To what do I owe the pleasure of this night-time rendezvous?"  
  
Narcissa's next few words washed over Severus like a tidal wave. "I wanted to get a book back off your room-mate."  
  
Lucius froze, and so did Severus.  
  
"Ohhhh... Sev..." Lucius called softly, his voice full of veiled menace. "Narcissa's here to see you..."  
  
"You didn't tell me," Lucius hissed, the minute Narcissa was out of the door, having left with a cheerful goodnight and a blown kiss.  
  
Severus shrugged. "There was nothing to tell, Lucius," he replied, keeping his voice as neutral as possible. His hand still tingled from where his fingers had met Narcissa's, but he tried to keep himself from thinking about that.   
  
"She was flirting with you, Sev." Lucius's voice was hard, unforgiving. "That didn't fucking look like 'nothing to tell' to _me_." He put his wine glass back down on the table carefully. "In fact, that looked like quite a lot to tell."  
  
"Lucius -"  
  
The blond held up a hand, cutting him off. "And _right now _seems like such a nice time to start. Did you use a Love Potion on her, you bastard?"  
  
Severus stared. He hadn't expected that. "Lucius. I'm not that stupid."  
  
Lucius smiled a feral smile. "So Narcissa Black is just throwing herself all over you because she feels like it."  
  
Severus sighed. "That wasn't 'throwing all over'. That was, to be precise, someone asking me for a book back. And then taking it back. And then saying good night. I'd think that with your, ah, _extensive_ experience with the fairer sex you'd know the difference."  
  
Lucius's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. Severus stared back at him, refusing to break eye contact.   
  
"You can't _own_ people, Lucius," Severus murmured.   
  
Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Oh? I seem to be doing a pretty good job with the _rest_ of our house..." He leant against the desk, eyes malicious. "When did you and Narcissa become so close, anyway?" His voice lowered. "I wouldn't think you were her type."  
  
"By not being a rich, arrogant blond?" Severus snapped back, and regretted it the instant he said it.   
  
"You're going to stay away from her," Lucius spat.  
  
"People aren't _things_, Lucius."  
  
The blond Slytherin sneered. "Really, Sev? Please, give me more tips on human interaction. I hear you're _so_ good at it."  
  
"As long as I don't _buy_ friends -"  
  
"Sev, you don't _have_ any friends -"  
  
"I've got as many friends as you have partners for the Halloween Ball," Severus reminded his room-mate silkily. Lucius whirled around. "And no, it wasn't a Love Potion. Maybe she just isn't interested. Did the thought ever cross your arrogant little mind?"  
  
Lucius laughed. "No-one who slinks into my room in such a small amount of clothing is uninterested."  
  
Arrogance, pure and simple. Severus hated him for it, hated him as he stood slouched against the desk, pale blond hair falling into his eyes. Their eyes met for a long, hard moment, Severus refusing to back down. He could almost taste the unspoken message: leave her alone. He shook his head. Lucius frowned, taking a few steps towards him.  
  
"No, Sev? What's she..." he paused, running his eyes up and down his room-mate's lithe form, a contemptuous curl on his pale lips, "To you?"  
  
Severus shook his head again, and turned away, seething with anger. He started pulling books off the desk, stacking them haphazardly in his arms, just wanting to be out of the room as soon as possible. Lucius placed a hand gently on his shoulder, and Severus could feel heat radiating off him, tension made tangible. "Where are you going, Sev?"  
  
A gentle pull, turning him around. Lucius's eyes were dark. "Listen to me. This isn't something we have to fight over."  
  
Severus snarled, and tried to pull away.  
  
"Let go of me Lucius, or I swear I'll hex you somewhere into the next millennium. Collect your hat trick of Blacks _without_ me having to overhear every oh-so-trite compliment."  
  
Lucius shrugged. "Have it your way, then." He released Severus's shoulder slowly. "Now go and hide in the library. And if I ever find that you - and Narcissa - " He smiled a slow, wolfish, Malfoy smile, eyes glittering in the candlelight. "Well, I'll have to kill you."  
  
The Restricted Section of the library was dark and cold, at night, with guttering candles casting a golden half-light across the dusty room that suited his mood perfectly. More importantly, Lucius couldn't get in - unless of course Narcissa had told him the new password on one of their little late-night trysts. She might have.  
  
He slammed the door shut behind him, waking up a few of the paintings in the hallway in the process. The memory of Narcissa leaning in towards Lucius, her sky-blue pjyamas slipping off her shoulder in that carefully calculated way... From the looks of it, Lucius wasn't the only one in hot pursuit of a partner for the Ball.   
  
"Good luck to both of you, then," he murmured, starting to take books off the shelves. "At least if you bite, you'll only bite each other."  
  
Narcissa _had_ been flirting with him, he was sure of that now. The way she had looked straight into his eyes, as only Lucius did.   
  
He slammed his fist into the bookcase in frustration. "Damn him."  
  
Always getting what he wanted. Never knowing what it was like to want something, need something, and not be able to have it. Lucius Malfoy, the golden boy. He'd never wanted for anything in his rich, spoilt life; what he wanted, he took. And Severus was always left watching as he took it.   
  
It wasn't as if Severus wanted what Lucius had. He didn't care about Quidditch, being the most popular person in Slytherin, taking the perfect partner to the Halloween Ball, having the most gleaming, opulent lifestyle. He didn't want any of that, but it still smarted that Lucius got it all, without even trying.  
  
And Narcissa was just another means to an end, like a new set of dress robes, or the latest model broomstick. She was a pretty girl, and that automatically made her Lucius's property. Lucius liked to own people, to own things. He was acquisitive.  
  
He was spoilt.  
  
Severus sighed, resting his head against the wall. He would have to go back to their study, he knew, and endure several days of cold silence from Lucius, several days of tension and barbed comments. And probably the sounds of Narcissa begging Lucius, night after night after bloody night. The image came into his mind; Lucius's eyes closed in a kiss, delicate blond eyelashes brushing against her pale skin, blood rising into his white lips. Lucius laid out on the sofa in those 'fuck me' black silk pyjamas.   
  
He snarled, running his hands distractedly through his hair. It might even be better to share a room with Avery - at least he wouldn't _have_ to talk to Avery.   
  
The light he had seen in Lucius's eyes when he had looked dazedly at Narcissa haunted him - it wouldn't have looked out of place in some stupid bodice-ripping historical romance. Severus privately smirked at the thought of Lucius wearing one of those ridiculous costumes. There was a soft click, followed by a creak as the library door swung open, and he started to gather up his books, not wanting to be trapped in a late-night conversation with anyone.  
  
"Severus?"  
  
Damn. It was her again.  
  
"Shouldn't you be in bed?" he asked her coldly, not bothering to meet her eyes.  
  
He could hear her moving to stand behind him, the soft swish of the silk against polished wooden floorboards. "Did you like the book?"  
  
"It was diverting. I won't ask how the famous family connections managed to acquire it." His voice dripped with sarcasm as he turned around.  
  
She shrugged. "The old name has to be useful for something, when my sister Andromeda isn't busy despoiling it." Her hair fell partly across her face, veiling her smile, the curve of those perfect lips. Severus found himself looking at her, fascinated despite himself. It was cold in the library, and tiny golden-blond hairs were standing up on her arms. A small voice in his head asked why she had come all the way to the library wearing less clothes than a stripper. He swallowed slightly, his body rather than his mind noticing the way the silk clung to her curves, caressing bare skin, grazing her nipples.   
  
"I didn't know Lucius was going to tear pieces out of you," she continued. "I thought he'd be scared of breaking a nail. And blood is probably really hard to wash out of those priceless heirlooms his room is cluttered up with." She leant back against the shelf, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Severus realised - too late - that he'd been staring. "So, this is an apology." She smiled again. "I didn't realise the two of you had such a tempestuous home life."  
  
Severus shot her a devastating glance. She continued to play with her hair, letting it fall across her face, then drawing it back again. Hidden and half-hidden. "Just tell me something - did you really need the book back?"  
  
She shook her head, a self-satisfied smile on her face.  
  
"I'm not going to ask the obvious question," he murmured caustically. "After all, he _is_ a Malfoy. Goodnight, Miss Black."  
  
Her hand on his arm made him stop. "Yes, he's a Malfoy." She was looking at him strangely. In the flickering lights of the library, her eyes had turned an unusual shade of blue - the colour of the ocean before the squall. He noticed how close she was, and that she was shivering. "And what Lucius wants, Lucius gets. Am I right?"  
  
Severus pushed her away with a glare. "Very perceptive, Miss Black."  
  
Their eyes met again. So blue, all the stupid 'drowning' metaphors that Lucius used finally made sense to him. She brushed a strand of hair out of her face and met him, gaze for gaze. He forced himself to keep his eyes on her face, to stop them from roaming down her body, over the thin, clinging material. He could see amusement in her eyes, and something else. Some hints of a subtle fire. He swallowed, wanting to look away.  
  
"That must _really_ piss you off," she whispered.   
  
"You have _no_ idea," Severus said icily.   
  
She was beautiful, there was no denying that. And he was attracted to her, so close that he could almost feel her breath on his face. There was no denying that, either. But there was a fine line between desire, and yielding to it. Lucius had never known how to play on that line, always rushing in and taking what he desired. He always wanted, and he always wanted _now_.  
  
This time, Lucius wouldn't get what he wanted.  
  
Narcissa's lips were cool and soft beneath his, so yielding that it was like falling. His hands went uncertainly to her hair, the heat of her body - and it had been so _cold_ in the library - radiating from under the smooth satiny material. She half-sighed, and leaned towards him, deepening the kiss slowly. Hidden and half-hidden. Her arms were around him, pressing her against him, and he was breathing hard as her tongue flickered into his mouth, sucking gently on his lower lip, teasing him.  
  
It was over all too quickly. "Kisses won't make it better," Narcissa said quietly, tracing the line of his lips with one cool finger. "But they can sometimes help."  
  
His heart was still hammering.   
  
"Goodnight, Severus." And with that, she was gone.


	5. Chapter Four

_Chapter Four_  
  
It had very little to do with desire.  
  
There were no sleepless nights pining over her; no sudden and depressing inclination to write poetry; no heart skipping a beat whenever he happened to catch sight of her in the corridor between classes. It had all been about Lucius, and the nasty, half-mocking, half-seductive quirk of those perfect lips as he asked:  
  
"No, Sev? What's she...to you?"  
  
Narcissa hadn't given any sign of noticing Severus's existence for almost a week; neither had Lucius. But whatever betrayal or resentment the dark-haired Slytherin might have felt was tempered with triumph.  
  
Lucius's little princess, who would look so beautiful and pure on his arm at the Ball - and she had come to _him_, kissed him in the dust and half-light. She would belong to Lucius, but not before Severus had had a taste of the forbidden fruit.  
  
Seeing them together, though - that was different, and somehow _wrong_. He knew from Lestrange and Rosier that the blonde girl had managed to insinuate herself into the Inner Circle perfectly.  
  
She looked like a princess.  
  
They were all sitting around the fire in Slytherin common room, as they had done for every year of their Hogwarts schooling. But now the greenish light played on Narcissa's pale blonde hair, shimmered on her white gold necklace, the firelight reflected in those brilliant blue eyes. She was perched on the arm of Lucius's chair, his arm casually draped around her slender waist, a possessive gesture that made Severus seethe. Few of the group turned in his direction as he walked across the common room, no more than he expected: Rosier's cool, thoughtful gaze; a quick, sardonic smile from Bellatrix; and a malicious smirk from Lucius.  
  
"Studying again, Sev?"  
  
Lucius's voice was slow, drawling. "We haven't seen you in _days_." He raised an eyebrow, his arm tightening almost imperceptibly around Narcissa's waist. "It's almost as though you've been _avoiding_ us."  
  
Severus couldn't decide whether this was an invitation to peace, or the re-commencement of hostilities. It was hard to tell from the carefully guarded expression in those cool grey eyes.  
  
Bellatrix broke the uncomfortable silence. "Still coming to London this evening?"  
  
Lucius glared at her.  
  
"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Severus replied, his voice a careful imitation of Lucius's languid drawl.  
  
Narcissa giggled.  
  
Lucius held out his hand. "Come here, Sev."  
  
Severus quickly looked around the firelit circle. If this was one of Lucius's stratagems, no-one's faces betrayed it. Bellatrix, holding his gaze, nodded slightly.  
  
"I'm not going to _bite_," Lucius said, his voice silky and compelling. "I just wanted to see what you were reading that could _possibly_ be more fascinating than us." He gestured around the circle with a possessive air.  
  
"The world domination plans are coming along well," Wilkes remarked sardonically.  
  
Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, if you gave us ten years we might be able to take Hogsmeade."  
  
Severus couldn't help smiling slightly. He could feel Narcissa's eyes burning on his face as he approached Lucius, but refused to look around; he had no time for simpering pure-bloods. Even those as beautiful as her.  
  
Lucius didn't take the proffered book, as Severus had expected; instead, he wrapped his slim fingers over Severus's as he turned the spine to face him. His hands were warm, and he held the touch for slightly longer than was necessary, eyes raking Severus's face with intimidating intensity.  
  
"'Bewitching the Mind'," the blond-haired boy read, never breaking eye contact, his voice low. Severus was struck by how _regal_ he looked, sprawled over the high-backed chair, wearing his customary combination of shimmering silk and tactile suede, a simple chain around his neck holding a seemingly empty glass vial. Severus frowned. Where had _that_ come from? "'And Ensnaring the Senses'." Lucius's eyes were amused now as he leaned closer. "Well, let's hope this one proves to be more - ah - _useful_ to you than your last potions manual," he said in a friendly tone, just above a whisper. "After all, your last experiment in 'bewitching' didn't go very well, did it?"  
  
Never breaking eye contact, he pulled Narcissa into a kiss. But now those beautiful grey eyes were cold, mocking, triumphant -  
  
Severus heard Narcissa's stifled giggle behind him as he swept out of the common room, and that made it WORSE.  
  
Oh, it had nothing, it had _nothing_ to do with desire.  
  
And it had _everything_ to do with Lucius.  
  
"She's playing with you," Bellatrix said calmly, looking out of the window. The landscape outside rolled by, all fields of corn and red-leaved forests, the unmistakable crisp taste of autumn on the air. Bellatrix's chocolate-brown hair fell over her face, nearly hiding heavy-lidded green eyes, full, pouting lips outlined in crimson. She looked across at Severus, and sighed. "Surely _you_ knew that? Lucius isn't the brightest Jarvey in the garden, for all his conniving airs. But you, Severus..."  
  
"I knew," the black-haired Slytherin spat, more for his own benefit than Bellatrix's.  
  
"Then why let her?" Bellatrix's eyes were dark. "I can tell you, she _isn't_ worth it. She's just a pretty, brainless girl who loves the idea of you and Lucius fighting over her. Years of practising on mother and father... She broke off, and stared out of the window for a moment. She's as used to getting her own way as Lucius is, but you _know_ Lucius. You don't know her.  
  
You do.  
  
Bellatrix smirked. I'm not the one trying to get into her bed, because that would be wrong. But if you just stepped down gracefully..." she paused, as if to consider her words, "Believe me. You could do so much better than that, no matter how much you hiss and spit and put the fear of god into the Slytherin girls."  
  
"This isn't about Narcissa," Severus murmured.  
  
"Then who is it about?" Bellatrix asked, a distinct purr in her voice. "Lucius?" She gave him a side-long look. "I hardly see how sticking your tongue down Sister Snivelling's pretty pink throat -"  
  
The look Severus gave her could have melted steel.  
  
"Yes, I know," Bellatrix said, leaning forward in her seat. She gave him a piercing look. "She ran _straight_ to my room for a big sisterly chat about boys. I suppose she thought I'd be the one to conveniently tell Lucius." With a sneer of disdain on her lips, she mimicked Narcissa's voice with unerring accuracy. "Oh, Bella, I don't know what to do! I think I'm in love with Lucius Malfoy, but I just kissed Severus Snape in the library! He's got such dark, brooding eyes -"  
  
Severus looked away, snarling with frustration. It had never crossed his mind to see Narcissa as a fellow Slytherin - as a Black sister, no less - fully capable of playing her own games.  
  
"Yes, she's a pretty unpleasant piece of work," Bellatrix said softly, reading his thoughts.  
  
"Why - _haven't_ - you told Lucius?" Severus asked, looking at Bellatrix suspiciously.  
  
She laughed. "Do you really think I'm that much in Malfoy's pocket?" Her voice was bitter. "It might surprise people - especially my beloved boyfriend - to know that a few indiscreet nights with Lucius does NOT make me his toy." She looked out of the window, her voice sinking to a throaty purr. "Besides, what would I gain from telling him?"  
  
Severus said nothing, watching the sky outside grow darker by the moment, fading from pale blue into deeper grey, the colour of Lucius's eyes when he was angry.  
  
"Look me in the eye, Severus, and tell me this has nothing to do with Narcissa," Bellatrix said softly.  
  
"It hasn't," he said.  
  
Bellatrix smiled, leaning closer. Her cool fingers traced the curve of his jaw, sending shivers down his spine, but he knew Bellatrix and her particular brand of Slytherin politics far too well to pull away. "Then it must all be about you and Lucius."  
  
Her smile deepened. "Good."  
  
Early evening, and the shadows were lengthening in Knockturn Alley, a slight breeze making the shop-signs creak and sway overhead, swirling Lucius's cloak around him, making Narcissa's white-blonde hair flow out behind her. She looked so good on his arm; she looked _right_. Elegant and slightly continental-looking in her white linen suit, the pale smoothness of the fabric off-set by the brilliant amber-gold of the tiger's eye pendant around her bare neck. She felt comfortable in the crook of his arm, leaning her slight weight against him as they walked.  
  
Rosier and Severus had disappeared in search of the nearest bookstore, not bothering to take their leave of the group. Avery was making a detour into Diagon Alley to make a withdrawal from Gringotts. Wilkes, Lestrange and Bellatrix were walking behind the couple, engaged in a passionate argument about whether Slytherin needed to choose a new Quidditch captain after the present one had revealed his rather less-than-pureblood heritage. Wilkes was willing to be forgiving; after all, Travers _had_ passed the Sorting to be put into Slytherin. Lestrange was adamant that the team wanted to maintain its unsullied reputation as the cream of old wizarding families; which Bellatrix sardonically countered by pointing out what an asset to the team Rosier was.  
  
Lucius looked to see Narcissa smiling at their deliberations.  
  
"And what is your view on this contentious issue?"  
  
She shrugged. "What's yours?"  
  
Ah, this was a girl he could live with. Lucius's lips curled into a thinly veiled sneer. "He's not pure-blood," he said simply. "Where would the rest of the team be if that were common knowledge? It was demoralising enough having to let Bella on the team - she plays well, but Quidditch -"  
  
"Is hardly a sport for girls," Narcissa finished, with a roll of her eyes to indicate exactly what she thought of Bellatrix's tomboy antics. Lucius smiled, approvingly, and she nestled closer to him.  
  
He noticed, almost absent-mindedly, the appreciative looks that the two of them were getting from passers-by; he knew he was a sight to behold, his pale white skin and blond hair set off perfectly by a pine-forest green cape and tight-fitting black trousers, but undoubtedly some of the stares were meant for Narcissa as well. A girl that was appreciated - perfect. Turning his head, he planted a swift kiss on her forehead, lips just grazing cool skin. She sighed contentedly.  
  
They paused to look in the window of Aconite's Apothecary; everything from crushed rose petals to unicorn's blood - strictly black-market, of course, the Aurors very rarely came down Knockturn Alley if they knew what was good for them - in a gleaming array of tiny bottles. Lucius unconsciously ran his fingers over the vial of Phoenix's Breath, hidden beneath his silk shirt. Hopefully, he wouldn't need this now - and was that a manticore's tail in the window? He frowned, momentarily thinking that Severus could use that for one of the rarer potions he'd been talking about - then remembering that he was hardly on speaking terms with his room-mate anyway.  
  
"Oooh, phoenix ashes." Narcissa shivered. "Aren't they meant to be cursed?"  
  
"Probably," Lucius replied absent-mindedly, smoothing her hair. "There's probably one very pissed-off phoenix with only half a wing out there. You have to trap the ashes just before the new phoenix rises, and be careful not to go up in flames yourself." She made a face, and looked up at him expectantly, a slight smile curving those perfect lips. Lucius bent down quickly and covered them with his own, feeling warm breath on his face, her hands reaching up to curl around the back of his neck, tangle in his hair.  
  
"Oh, get a room," a familiar voice snapped. Lucius pulled away to scowl at his black-haired room-mate, who was standing in the doorway of the apothecary, holding a large bag stamped with the shop's coat of arms. Behind him was Rosier, whose cool eyes were resting on Narcissa with a look just verging on contempt.  
  
"I wouldn't think you'd find anything to your taste here, Miss Black," Severus continued caustically. "The nearest designer boutique is a whole hundred yards away."  
  
Lucius sighed. "Sev, if you can't be civil to me and mine -" he emphasised the last part of the sentence with a slight snarl. His eyes narrowed as he looked at Rosier. "Not choosing your company as wisely as I'd hope, either."  
  
"What's that meant to mean, Malfoy?" Rosier asked calmly. Not bothering to wait for a reply, he turned to Severus. "I'll be in Borgin and Burke's when you're finished here." He strode off, his cloak billowing out behind him in the cool evening air. Lucius frowned. Severus was choosing to spend time with that bland, new-money bookworm?  
  
Severus laughed, as if reading Lucius's thoughts. "Hardly any of your business, is it?" He looked from Narcissa to Lucius with a calculating gaze. "And I could say something similar to you, Lucius."  
  
"Lucius, don't fight with him," Narcissa said softly, twining a strand of Lucius's hair around her pale fingers. "He's just jealous, you know," she whispered into his ear, hot breath making him shiver. She slipped her arm around his waist in a half-possessive gesture.  
  
"I know," Lucius murmured to her. Then to Severus - "For fuck's sake, Sev. You're _such_ a bad loser, you know that?"  
  
Severus snarled, and took a step forward. Narcissa let out a small squeak, and took a step backwards. Severus gave her a strange look, which Lucius couldn't quite work out. It was as though something was passing between them - he quickly shook the thought off. After all, he and Narcissa had been virtually inseparable for over a week, almost since the night she'd turned up in his study. And he'd hardly seen Sev, since the argument; a few times in the company of Rosier or Lestrange, but that was all.  
  
Whatever had been between Severus and Narcissa - and he was damn sure that something _had_ been going on, he wasn't blind - it was over now. He kissed Narcissa's cheek deliberately, lingering on her rose-scented skin, as if to mark his territory. Meeting Severus's eyes, he saw that strange expression again, but it was gone as quickly as it had come.  
  
"Enjoy your evening, Lucius," Severus said quietly, stepping past the two of them. Then he was gone. Lucius's eyes followed him down the street, a slender black figure fading into the twilight and disappearing. He sighed, almost regretting his harsh words of the week before. It had been unwise, to alienate his room-mate, the only son of another powerful pureblood family, a powerful wizard in his own right. Of course, he'd won Narcissa...  
  
Who was looking at him with devoted eyes. Beautiful, sky-blue eyes. The streetlights flickered over her pale, smooth skin, making it almost luminous. He tilted her chin up with a single finger, running it down the silky curve of her neck, over the blue silk shirt she wore under her suit, slipping a finger inside the neck to caress the hollow between her breasts. She leant into him, arms sliding around his waist, pulling him close. She smelt of that faint, delicate perfume that he'd bought her, and rose water. "You're beautiful," Lucius murmured, never one to spare compliments when they were due. She smiled shyly, and kissed him lightly on the lips, a fluttering touch that made him tingle. He leant closer, claiming her lips in a deeper kiss, tongue flickering over her lips, then delving into the warmth of her mouth. She closed her eyes, melting into him in indescribable softness.  
  
She was a prize worthy of a Malfoy.  
  
Breaking the kiss, Lucius put his arm around her. "Come with me. I've got to pick up something." He hoped that it would have arrived in time - but then, if it hadn't, family connections would mean that something _very_ unpleasant would happen to Messrs Buskin and Blackwell. It would be extremely unwise to bungle the Malfoy heir's order of a gift for his sweetheart, and Lucius had pressed that on them himself.  
  
The shop they came to was dark, heavy blinds preventing curious passers-by from looking in. An etching on the glass of the door advertised its opening hours as 'Dusk to Midnight, daily' and the heavy metal sign above the entrance named the shop: 'Buskins and Blackwells, Purveyors of Cursed and Enchanted Goods.' Lucius noted Narcissa's apparent unfamiliarity with Knockturn Alley, and frowned. Obviously, for all her family's wealth and esoteric library books, she had none of Bellatrix's rather precocious affinity with the Dark Arts. Still, that was not without its usefulness. A small bell chimed once above the door as they entered, and Lucius paused for a few moments, letting his eyes get used to the gloom. The shop was lit by a yellowish glow, and he looked around, trying to see where it was coming from.  
  
"In the bottles, look," Narcissa said, pointing to the bookshelves which lined the walls. On each shelf was  
a small, corked bottle, with several small balls of light whizzing around inside it, banging against the glass with faint but audible thuds.  
  
"Trapped fairies," Lucius explained. "Fairy wings are really useful, but they need to be - ah - freshly harvested."  
  
Leaving Narcissa looking at the selection of skulls - surely some were too small to be human? - which were heaped on the table by the door, Lucius went over to the counter at the far side of the room, noticing how silent it was in the shop, as if no-one had come in for years. Probably losing business to Borgin and Burke's, he mused.  
  
"Can I help you, sir?" The shopkeeper had a breathy, excitable voice. He looked at Lucius over the top of his half-moon glasses, and smiled anxiously. "The young Mr Malfoy, isn't it? I'd recognise a Malfoy anywhere, sir."  
  
"I ordered a necklace, last week," Lucius said curtly. "I've come to collect it."  
  
The shopkeeper grinned. "Ah, yes, of course, the Forget-Me-Not Necklace. An excellent choice." He peered over the desk at Narcissa, who was now investigating a display of charmed cloaks and dresses, all made from night-black velvet which shimmered slightly when it caught the light. "And is that the lucky lady, sir?"  
  
Lucius nodded impatiently.  
  
"Excellent, excellent," he murmured, reaching underneath the desk and appearing to sort through a large pile of oilskin parcels. "Ah... here we are... Malfoy, Lucius." He pulled out a tiny, delicate-looking gold chain, on which hung a single blue flower, its petals picked out in sapphires. "Now, you know I need one last thing to set the enchantment, sir, sorry to have to trouble you for it -"  
  
Lucius held out his hand. A moment's prick with a needle, the blood falling on the upturned petals, and it was done.  
  
"It's bound to you now, sir," the shopkeeper said. "Of course, a family like yours, you know how to use it -"  
  
"It allows the wearer to feel my presence, as if I was always with them," Lucius finished. "Yes, I know." It would stake his claim to the most beautiful girl in Slytherin, once and for all. Not as crude, or as risky as a Love Charm, or even some of the lesser-known hexes. But it would make Narcissa feel his presence under her skin, no matter how far away he might be. A fitting present from a Malfoy, the most jealous and possessive of bloodlines. "Put it on my family's account," he murmured, turning away.  
  
The shopkeeper bowed. "Of course, sir. And it was a pleasure."  
  
Narcissa turned away from the racks of poisoned candles when she heard him approaching. She held one out to him, smiling teasingly. "Look. For Love-Sick Madness and Delirium. I can think of quite a few Slytherin girls I could wish _that_ on."  
  
Lucius smiled, drawing her into his arms. "And may YOU never have to suffer the same fate."  
  
"I've got you," she whispered complacently, resting her head on his shoulder.  
  
Lucius caught sight of their reflection in a nearby mirror, and sighed. White-blond on white-blonde, pale skin and aristocratic profiles. Their children, he reflected, would be stunning. Drawing away from Narcissa, he held out the necklace, now wrapped up again in parchment, sealed with a blood-red crest.  
  
"This is for you."  
  
Narcissa smiled. "Presents, after only a week?" She looked suitably impressed. "My, I _have_ done well with you, haven't I?"  
  
Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Well, open it."  
  
Narcissa looked slightly taken aback at the sight of the necklace. "Lucius, it's -"  
  
"A Forget-Me-Not Necklace," he finished. "This way, we can be together all the time." He smiled slightly. "At least, as long as you want us to."  
  
"It's beautiful," Narcissa said sincerely. "Thank you." She leant up to kiss him briefly, then put the necklace around her slender neck, letting it fall under her shirt. Her eyes widened. "Oh - I can -"  
  
"Feel me?" Lucius asked, with interest. He knew the effects of such a necklace, of course, but would never be fool enough to put one on. Aside from the undesirability of getting romantically attached, some of the side effects could be horrible.  
  
"Yes - it's like -" she shivered, and stopped. Leaning forwards, he kissed her, allowing her tongue to explore his mouth, tasting of cinnamon and apples. She was trembling slightly, and he could feel a faint, indefinable tingle on her skin, the first effects of the enchantment.  
  
"Does this mean you've forgiven me?" she asked innocently, blue eyes wide. Lucius looked at her little-girl expression, puzzled.  
  
"Forgiven you for what?" he asked, fighting to keep his tone light. Something was wrong here. He pulled away from her, suddenly suspicious.  
  
"Oh, you know," she murmured into his cloak. "About Severus."  
  
"Remind me." Lucius's voice was glacier-cold, and just as hard. He gave her a searching look.  
  
"I'm glad... it was before we were - you know, together." She looked up at him in what he supposed she thought was a guileless manner. He bit his lip, _hard_. Enough for her to realise that something was wrong. She trailed her fingers down his face, gave him her sweetest smile. "I thought you knew, Lucius. That we'd -"  
  
Lucius begged her, silently, not to say it.  
  
"That we'd kissed."  
  
She played with the chain of her necklace, twisting it around her fingers, the colour slowly draining out of her eyes as she realised she'd made a wrong move.


	6. Chapter Five

_Chapter Five_  
  
The blond-haired Slytherin boy held the vial up to the light, letting the candles reflect off it in a hundred tiny points of radiance. It looked as if there was nothing inside, but if it was turned at exactly the right angle - a fat in his mind, Severus was as good as dead. The potion smelled faintly of marzipan, a lingering sweet smell that only reminded Lucius of Narcissa.  
  
Damn her. She would love him, she would be with him, and if that couldn't be by his 'considerable charms' then it would have to be by magic. The Malfoys were nothing if not pragmatists. He'd tried every method of seduction that he knew, and got nowhere. Lucius had a jealous temperament, and a vicious streak a mile wide. Any of the after-effects which Severus had described to him - slavish devotion, and a propensity to suicide - us for a second opinion; but in his mind, Severus was as good as dead. The potion smelled faintly of marzipan, a lingering sweet smell that only reminded Lucius of Narcissa.  
  
Damn her. She would love him, she would be with him, and if that couldn't be by his 'considerable charms' then it would have to be by magic. The Malfoys were nothing if not pragmatists. He'd tried every method of seduction that he knew, and got nowhere. Lucius had a jealous temperament, and a vicious streak a mile wide. Any of the after-effects which Severus had described to him - slavish devotion, and a propensity to suicide - well, it would be no worse than she deserved.  
  
He glanced over at the letter which had arrived that morning. Another carefully veiled threat from his father, stating that he was _overjoyed_ that Lucius had finally found a suitable girl, and particularly pleased that she was a Black, and how convenient it was that a transfer to Durmstrang seemed no longer necessary - providing, of course, that Lucius kept up with his holiday schooling. He looked from the letter to the Love Potion, and smiled slowly. A girl by any other means was still a girl, after all...  
  
And the thought of Narcissa on her knees, begging for him, _was_ appealing...  
  
He was beyond anger. Except where Severus was concerned, and that was like a white-hot cloud at the back of his mind, frightening in its intensity. Oh, _there_ was a score to settle. And if Severus still wanted Narcissa...  
  
He closed his eyes, unwillingly picturing the two of them in the library - it _would_ have to be the library, of course - in the shimmering half-light and shadows. Severus's lips on Narcissa's, his dark hair falling over her face, his dark eyes holding her with that penetrating gaze. Severus, leaning against the bookcases, a mocking smile on his pale, drawn face. Severus lost in a book, biting his lip unconsciously, brushing the hair back from his face with those long, pale fingers. They would be _wrong_ together, and he intended to drive that home to his room-mate in every way possible.  
  
Narcissa would be his, and she would come to the Ball with him. In front of the whole of Slytherin, Lucius would be the one to have her. Such - presumption - could not go unchecked.  
  
Lucius's lips curled into a sneer. Slavish devotion DID sound good...  
  
And then he could settle his score with Severus.  
  
He stirred the potion one last time, then held it up to the light. Perfect. It was eleven o'clock, and with any luck a simple Invisibility Charm would get him into the fifth-year girls' dormitory. It had worked before, with Bellatrix. He looked across at the full-length mirror in the corner, all brash gilt and gothic curlicues. Privately, he thought that Lestrange had been making a point in giving him this. It loomed in the corner of the room like a monument to bad taste. He checked his reflection, brushing his hair back. He was wearing his most figure-hugging clothes - what Bellatrix had once pointedly referred to as 'Lucius's fuck-me outfit'. Tight, unembellished black T-shirt, showing off muscles that owed little to Quidditch practice and more to illicit duelling practice on the battlements of the family castle - the Malfoys always did love a bit of drama. Slightly battered suede trousers in a brushed black-grey, held up with a snakeskin belt, tucked into black lace-up riding boots. Not that Lucius rode, but that wasn't the point.  
  
Yes, it would do. He was the very image of seduction. And with a few murmured words, he was holding two crystal cocktail glasses, each filled with a clear, sparkling liquid. One for him, one... for Narcissa. He hesitated, then tipped in half the Love Potion. It fizzed slightly, then became untraceable.  
  
Lucius smiled, a thin, vicious, blatantly predatory smile.  
  
Slavish devotion was nothing more than what he DESERVED.  
  
"Can I see her?"  
  
The nurse looked up at Severus, obviously taken aback to see one of the Slytherin clique daring to show his face in the Infirmary. Her eyes narrowed, and he could tell that she was seriously thinking about sending him away. He sighed, clenching his fists, knowing that it would be hard to slip into the hospital wing unnoticed if he was not granted visiting rights. It was watched almost day and night by a subtle network of spells, as the Inner Circle had learnt to their chagrin several years previously... he slipped his hand inside his robes, feeling the vial of blue liquid resting in a hidden pocket. He hoped he wasn't too late. Someone _had_ to get the antidote to her now, before Lucius's little games started to do lasting damage.  
  
"Please?"  
  
She nodded curtly, looking back down at the medical report she was writing. "You have ten minutes, Severus. And I _don't_ expect to see Mr Malfoy around here at any time in the near future. She needs... rest."  
  
Severus nodded. He hardly thought that Lucius would be facing the rest of the school for another few days. He _was_ popular, and he _was_ the Malfoy heir... but Slytherins were very capable of turning on their own, and the loss of several hundred House points had not gone down too well. A malicious smile curved the dark-haired Slytherin's lips. He never thought he'd see the day when Lucius would be unable to slip unnoticed out of trouble...  
  
The hospital wing was cool and airy, the walls and floor a brilliant white; Severus was sensitive enough to feel the thrumming of several protective and healing charms in the air, woven into the fabric of the place itself. The tall windows were open, letting in the faint smell of fallen leaves and the far-off sound of Quidditch being played. Sitting up in the bed nearest the door, Narcissa looked pale, but composed.  
The only sign of her misadventure in the Great Hall was a slight flush to the otherwise pale cheeks, her hair less shiny and well-groomed than normal. Apart from that, she looked perfect, a diaphanous white fabric covering her slender shoulders, shimmering slightly in the light streaming in through the windows. Severus was suddenly aware of how _dark_ he must look, amidst all this light and the golden gleam of Narcissa's hair. She was playing with a necklace, he noticed; a thin gold chain with a small blue flower hanging from it - letting it run through her fingers, twining it around her wrist, rather in the manner of a young girl playing 'he loves me, he loves me not'. She didn't look up as he sat on the end of her bed, acutely aware of her nearness and the vague smell of roses.  
  
"Narcissa." She put the chain back on the bedside cabinet, and looked up at him; brilliant blue eyes, but with the faintest suggestion of dark circles under them; sleepless nights, and Severus was willing to bet that _that_ had been Lucius's doing as well. Damn him -  
  
"How are you feeling?" Sympathy came hard to him, but she was little more than a girl...  
  
She shrugged. "Better, now." She gestured to the chain beside the bed. "I feel sick whenever I put it back on, so I've had to leave it off. Lucius will -"  
  
"Never _mind_ what Lucius will think." The iron had crept back into Severus's voice. "I very much doubt they'll let him see you. I had enough problems convincing the nurse that there wasn't a Slytherin assassination plot in the making."  
  
Narcissa laughed, and rolled her eyes. "And I suppose the whole school is talking about me?"  
  
"Miss Black. If I wasn't motivated by the most _extreme_ sympathy for your condition..." there was a mocking edge to his voice, "I'd have sworn you screamed just to get attention. It was _very_ Victorian-melodrama."  
  
She smiled her secret smile, the sunlight glimmering off her gold hair.  
  
Severus sighed, and pulled out the vial, handing it to her. Their hands touched as it passed over - not for long, but enough for her to look searchingly into his eyes. "This will - this will help," he explained coldly, breaking the eye contact. "Lucius underestimated the combined effect of that - " he gestured towards the chain on the bedside table.  
  
"And the Love Potion," Narcissa said softly. Severus frowned. "Oh, you think I didn't know. He turned up in my room wearing the most _obscene_ outfit..." He fought back a smile. "And any Black worth her salt knows that a drink that smells of marzipan is a bad idea to accept from anyone, Lucius or not."  
  
She broke the seal on the vial, and smelled it. "Réveillant," she murmured. "To counter a Love Potion. Page twenty-five of Moste Potente Potions." Swallowing it, she shuddered. "But I'd forgotten how horrible it tastes."  
  
Again, the holding of eye contact for slightly longer than was necessary. She looked so pale, woven from insubstantial light, her eyes the only real point of colour. Picking up the vial, she offered it to him, sunlight glinting off the gold of her ring. He reached out, and this time Narcissa caught his hand. Her fingers were cool, delicate. It felt as though he could crush them with just a flex of his hand.  
  
She looked at him speculatively. "Thank you."  
  
"You're welcome." Severus hadn't meant to put quite that amount of bite in his words.  
  
"You didn't really want to help me. Just to take a little of the heat off Lucius." She iwas beautiful. But also dangerous, as a snake sunning itself was dangerous. "Thank you anyway, Severus."  
  
She leaned closer, making the sunlight play over her hair, shining fine-spun gold, caressing her pale skin. "Because you didn't _have_ to come and see me."  
  
She was right. Her voice was soft, making him move closer unconsciously. "You didn't _have_ to clear up Lucius's little... miscalculation."  
  
Severus looked at her, and saw what she was offering.  
  
Her lips were slightly parted, skin glowing, unmistakeable come-hither in her eyes. A chance to be avenged on Lucius, before the whole cycle started again. A chance to have the last word... it was tempting. He thought of Lucius's golden hair, and the mockery in those beautiful grey eyes; it was true, the two of them did look very much alike. As if somehow, kissing Narcissa would be kissing the Malfoy heir. He imagined Lucius's lips parted for him, that same expression in his eyes, the fire and hatred subliminated into desire. Narcissa sighed, leaning into him.  
  
Their lips touched briefly, before Severus drew away. To kiss Narcissa... that would be a hollow victory. He let go of her hand. "No, Miss Black." His voice was little above a whisper. "I won't be the instrument of your vengeance upon Lucius, nor you the instrument of mine."  
  
"I see." Her voice was cold, but he heard a faltering in it which corresponded with her downcast eyes. She looked up suddenly, defiance written there, and smiled. "I can still feel him, you know. He's there, and he isn't going away."  
  
Severus's eyes were drawn to the small, innocuous-looking chain on the bedside table. He knew enough about enchanted - cursed? - items to know that this was true. Oh, did Lucius know what he had _done_? She could go mad. This wasn't a plaything, that could be put down when the owner grew tired of it... He nodded briefly. "Indeed. But there's nothing I can do about that."  
  
Narcissa shrugged, and looked away. "Will you give him a message from me?" There was distance in her voice, and Severus knew how she felt - to have Lucius _crawling_ under her skin, in every vein - "Tell him that I can't accept his kind invitation to the Halloween Ball." She looked up, her eyes piercing. "Or yours, Severus."  
  
"But I didn't -"  
  
She laughed. "Of course, you didn't invite me. But you were hoping I'd go with you all the same." Her look was coquettish, mingled with a strange underlying coolness. "Boys!"


	7. Chapter Six

Lucius sipped absently from the glass of wine, sinking back onto his bed. The wine had a slightly bitter aftertaste.

He put it down immediately and stared at it - _hard_. It was the right colour, a brilliant blood-red which seemed to shimmer slightly in the gloom. It didn't smell strange, and Lucius started to ask himself if he was being paranoid. After all, all the _really_ potent poisons tasted far more bitter, as he'd learnt pretty quickly, sharing a room with Severus. And anything which was designed to do permanent damage would smell of bitter almonds.

Cautiously, he took another sip. The taste was still there.

"Fuck!" Lucius yelled, hurling the glass away from him. It smashed against the heavy draped curtains, staining them a purplish shade, trickling down to pool on the carpet below. Lucius wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, unable to believe he'd been that stupid. What could it be? Anything, given the limits of Severus's ingenuity and the back-room stock of Aconite's Apothecary. Lucius tried to determine whether he felt light-headed, sick, sleepy... nothing. He ran his hands through his hair and swore again, standing

up.

He'd expected to see Severus standing in the doorway, that mocking half-smile upon his face. Not Lestrange.

"So you drank it, Malfoy." The red-haired Slytherin's voice was unpleasant.

Lucius found himself nodding, curling his lips up into a sneer. Lestrange closed the door behind him, and motioned for Lucius to sit back down on the bed.

"What do YOU want, Lestrange?" Lucius drawled, fighting to keep his voice calm and disinterested. "Has Sev talked you into something? Interesting... didn't think he'd have the charisma."

Lestrange laughed, opening the curtains enough to let a few shafts of light spill through onto the bed, picking out the green and silver embroidery of the Malfoy crest. "No, this is strictly personal. Although Severus did have a hand in it -" he gestured towards the spreading stain on the carpet. "It should have been tasteless, of course. But that would take several days of distillation, and, well..." he trailed off, smiling unpleasantly, "I didn't _have_ several days."

"Why the rush?" Lucius asked laconically. "Don't tell me you're pissed off because I haven't invited you to the Ball. It didn't taste like a Love Potion."

"Malfoy..." Lestrange's tone became quiet, guarded. "How old were you when you lost your virginity?"

"_What_?" Lucius was almost speechless with disbelief.

Lestrange looked at him coolly. "Obviously we need to wait a few seconds, then... Malfoy, how old were you -"

"Sixteen." The words were torn out of Lucius's mouth before he even had time to think about it. He stared at Lestrange in horror, then swore loudly. "A fucking _truth potion_?"

Lestrange nodded, the sun glinting off the copper-red of his hair. "'Fraid so, Malfoy. And I think we've established now that it works." A malicious smile played on his lips. "Bit of a late starter, weren't you?"

Lucius snarled, standing up. Lestrange caught his arm, pulling him back down. "Easy, Malfoy. Don't want you spilling your secrets to the entire Inner Circle, do we? Whereas everything here..." he gestured around him gracefully, "Will be kept between us."

"Yeah, really?" Lucius sneered.

"On my honour as a Slytherin." Lestrange swept into an elegant bow. "And if I have to kill you... well, then no-one will ever find out why."

Lucius forced himself to laugh. "Thoughtful." His mind was already working, trying to think of ways to delay Lestrange's questioning. Maybe if he got him into a fight, or tried to fend off the worst questions until the effects of the potion wore off... the problem was, he was pretty sure Severus would have been prepared for this eventuality. Maybe he could fight it off... he smiled, a pale reflection of his normally predatory Malfoy smile. He'd faced the Imperius curse, sometimes even held it at bay for a few seconds. How difficult could it be, now that he was prepared?

"Have a seat, Lestrange," Lucius said politely. "And then maybe you could tell me -"

"I'm telling you nothing, Malfoy." The red-haired boy's eyes glittered with malice. "Though I believe YOU'RE going to tell me things." He sat down, crossing his legs beneath him in a manner which reminded Lucius too much of Severus. He looked thoughtful, as though deciding upon a strategy.

"How long have you been sleeping with Bellatrix, Malfoy?"

Lucius frowned, concentrating hard. He knew what he wanted to say - he wanted to deny that he'd ever so much as touched the future Mrs Lestrange. Never even laid a finger on her. He opened his mouth, holding that thought clear at the forefront of his mind, then -

"A year last summer."

Lestrange looked as though he was expecting this. He swallowed, eyes losing their hardness.

"You knew that, didn't you?" Lucius asked, genuinely puzzled. "So why did you ask me?"

Lestrange shook his head. "You wouldn't understand. I had to - I had to _know_." He looked up, eyes meeting Lucius's, emerald green on cool grey. For a second, there was confusion in those eyes; but then the hardness came back. "I have to _know_. How often does she come to you?"

"Once, twice a week. She never stays the night, we're not stupid."

"And are you in love?"

Another confusing clash of gazes. Lucius read pain in Lestrange's gaze, pain and a hideous sense of deep, repressed anger.

"No."

"So it's just..." Lestrange's voice trailed off, but Lucius found himself bound to answer the implicit question.

"Yes. It's just sex."

"Does she ever - does she ever talk about me?"

"Yes." Lucius tried to stop the next words coming out, clenching his fists hard against the silky softness of the quilt. Although this would hurt Lestrange - deservably so, he felt - he wanted more than anything to be able to keep Bellatrix's confidences. "She thinks you're funny. A distraction. She _will_ marry you though, but only because your family is powerful."

Lestrange looked away. Lucius half-smiled. _That_ had been a blow. Maybe enough to give him leverage. He sat up on the bed, resting his chin on his hand, looking thoughtful.

"She doesn't love me?"

"No."

Lestrange's face crumpled.

"Not very Slytherin, my friend," Lucius said coolly. "Not very Slytherin _at all_. Where's your sense of style?" Lestrange didn't answer. Lucius leaned closer, using one slim finger to tilt the red-head's face up towards his. Now, here was a weakness that could be exploited... he laughed inwardly, pitching his voice low in a cruel imitation of seductiveness.

"Did you think she loved you? Did you think she laid awake at night, thinking of you? Did you think she dreamt about you?"

Pain, and confusion, and sheer molten rage in Lestrange's eyes. Lucius instinctively knew that he'd pushed too far. Lestrange snarled, pushing him over backwards, pinning him to the bed.

"What the _fuck_ do you know about love? You're just a pretty little brat who loves to fuck with people because you're so rich you can get away with it." He paused to take a breath. "Who do you love, Malfoy?"

Lucius paused, waiting for some treacherous answer to be torn from his lips.

Silence.

"Exactly." Lestrange's voice was venomous. "Do you even _like_ Narcissa?"

"She's pretty. And rich. Completes a neat little pair of Blacks. And you must admit, we _do_ look perfect together."

"But you don't - desire - her."

Lucius laughed. "No."

Lestrange looked interested. "Really? Hmmm..." He smiled unpleasantly. "You almost had us fooled there, as well. All those smouldering glances and lingering gazes..." He released Lucius's wrists, and the blond-haired Slytherin sat up, wincing as the blood flow resumed. He bit back a sharp retort, not liking the direction which Lestrange's questioning was taking.

"Lestrange, if that's all you wanted to know..." he tried, starting to move away. Once again, he was pulled back by the shoulder.

"No, that's _not_ all." Lestrange's voice was dangerously soft - too like his room-mate's for comfort. "Who is it, Malfoy? Do you lie awake at night, thinking of anyone?"

"No," Lucius replied truthfully.

"Do you _dream_ of anyone?" Lestrange purred.

Unbidden, oh, unbidden - "Yes."

Lestrange looked thoughtful, moving closer to Lucius on the bed. He'd seen a weakness, now... Lucius bit his lip, not daring to look away.

"We all dream about people, Malfoy," Lestrange said, smiling slightly. "I'm talking about dreams that make you _writhe_. Dreams where you wake up with the sheets all sticky and covered in sweat. Dreams that make you cry out in your sleep." His smile was feral now, and Lucius made a mental note _never_ to underestimate Lestrange, not ever again. "Guilty pleasure, Malfoy. So tell me -" he crossed his arms, the glint in his eyes unnerving, "Who do you dream of?"

Lucius shook his head. "I don't know." And that was almost the truth, at least to his conscious mind.

Then all-pervading horror, a rising sense of despair like an inner tide. Lucius almost tore his mind apart trying to dash the answer from his lips. He shivered, wrapping his arms around himself, trying to stave it off. Waking up, mind throbbing with pleasure, body deliciously sated -

A long, long, moment of silence.

"Sev."

"Fucking rich bitches, fucking Halloween Ball, fucking Lucius Malfoy," Rosier muttered under his breath, slamming the door to his room shut so hard the window-panes rattled dangerously. He exhaled loudly, leaning back against the door and rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand - which only succeeded in smearing a large portion of Bellatrix's expensive blue ink across his face. When he realised, he started swearing fluently in Mermish, stopping when he'd both run out of colourful epithets and the back of his throat was aching with the unfamiliar sounds.

"Something on your mind?"

Rosier turned around warily. "How did _you_ get in here? I have wards up, you know."

She looked at him coolly, passing her wand from one hand to the next. "I know. They aren't very good, though, are they? You should see some of the wards Bellatrix put on our playroom when we were younger. Six house-elves were turned inside-out."

Rosier stood, impassive. She had managed to drape herself across the bed with every single one of the texts he needed for the Ancient Runes class he was already late for. Books, and parchment scrolls, and the deep green of the Slytherin crest, and Narcissa Black. Fucking rich bitch. "Shouldn't you be doing the consumptive heroine thing still? I have classes to get to."

"I find myself much recovered," she said tartly, and propped herself up on one elbow. "Besides, I wanted to talk to you."

Rosier held up his hands. "Not if you're thinking what I _very_ much hope you're not."

"It's not like you have a partner already."

"It's not," Rosier said tartly, "like I _want_ a partner."

"Even Avery has one."

"I doubt I'll ever find digging around the sordid recesses of my family tree quite as rewarding as Avery's parents obviously did."

"So you're just going to sit and look moody by the buffet all night?" Narcissa rolled over onto her back, one pretty leg arched in the air. "Glowering at Lucius, hoping that Severus will come over and discuss something coma-inducingly boring with you over the cheese-and-pumpkin-on-a-stick?"

"Something like that, yes," Rosier replied, leafing through a pile of parchments on his desk. "Now. Look. I'm late already -"

Narcissa sat up. "I'll make it worth your while."

The Great Hall was beautiful.

The ceiling sparkled and glimmered with the light of a thousand tiny stars, set like gems against the blue-blackness of the night sky beyond. The hundreds of candles which floated just above head-height gave the room a soft, mystical glow, making Lucius Malfoy's hair shine golden-yellow. Severus watched him as he talked to Bellatrix, occasionally accepting compliments gracefully from his flock of assembled admirers. He DID look good in evening wear - a well-cut evening suit, flared just enough to emphasise the lissome lines of his body and hang off him perfectly. It was obvious from Bellatrix's veiled glances that she considered her sister to be a fool for passing up the opportunity to go to the Ball with the most attractive male present. Lucius looked louche and degenerate, and Severus couldn't even bear to be in the same room as him. It would be obvious as soon as Narcissa entered that he was always going to be in Lucius's shadow; a pale reflection of the Malfoy family's golden son. Always wanting.

He sipped at his drink, half-listening to whatever Lestrange was saying - probably another variation on the infinitely uninteresting 'what does Bellatrix see in him when she's MY girlfriend?' rant. Over the past few days, after the split from Lucius, Lestrange's company had been the only thing to keep him half-way sane. The red-haired Slytherin was witty, and likeable, and self-opinionated, but... he still wasn't Lucius.

Who was blatantly flirting with Bellatrix, and glancing their way every few seconds to see if they were watching. Severus clenched his fists, trying to let the anger drain out of him.

It wasn't working. Lucius hit far too close to home. He let his eyes rake over his room-mate, loathing his self-satisfied air, the way he lounged against the pillar, the way he smoothed his hair back, letting it catch the light.

"I think I need a drink," Lestrange muttered, his eyes also fixed on Lucius and Bellatrix. His girlfriend was wearing a long black velvet gown, the top half laced like a medieval bodice, her curves emphasised. And right now, Lucius seemed to be showing _far_ too much attention to those curves. Severus accepted the proffered glass, looking towards the double doors at the end of the Hall. The room was filling up quickly, but there was still no sign of Narcissa. He wanted to get the inevitable confrontation over as soon as possible.

"She's late, hmmm?" his companion murmured, echoing his thoughts. "Probably wants to keep everyone hanging as long as possible." Severus nodded. "Bitch. If I were you or Lucius, I'd forget about her. She's pretty, but not worth it. I'd go for someone a little more interesting..."

"Like Bellatrix? Because Lucius seems to be doing a perfectly good job already," Severus replied caustically. Lestrange blanched slightly, and took another sip of his wine.

Avery looked ill at ease in formal wear, and his cousin Clarissa did indeed look as though cousin-bedding had been an accepted practice in her family for generations. Once the introductions were made, the four of them stood around in an awkward silence - Severus's eyes fixed on the doors to the Hall, Lestrange watching Bellatrix like a hawk, Avery looking at the floor, Clarissa gazing upon Avery with adoration.

"Um, Lucius and Bellatrix are over there," Avery offered, a look of desperation in his eyes.

"We know," Lestrange snapped.

"And we don't care," Severus added.

"Oh... because I thought we could... maybe, I mean, all of us -"

Severus sighed. "Did Lucius send you over here?"

Avery went a deep and interesting shade of red. "Um... no..."

"But Bellatrix did," Lestrange sighed. "How typical. She hates it when people have problems that she hasn't planned personally."

"Well... do you want to -"

"No," both Severus and Lestrange replied in unison. Avery stammered something, and left, taking a very confused-looking Clarissa with him.

All eyes on the doors to the Hall.

Severus felt his breath catch in his throat, despite himself. She looked so - beautiful.

Unlike all the other girls in the Hall, who had gone for a Halloween theme to their outfits, all blood-red and black, Narcissa Black was wearing white. A plain, close-fitting white dress that swept down from a single shoulder strap across her chest, encircling her slim hips in alabaster silk, coming down to swish softly against the stone floor at her feet. Her startlingly blue eyes were emphasised by the whiteness, her hair pulled back from her face and tied up in a haphazard bundle - which Severus was willing to bet had taken HOURS - with a single white rose. She looked almost angelic, a satisfied smile curving those perfect lips.

Behind her was Rosier.

Severus heard another sharp intake of breath besides his own, and realised that it was Lucius. Their eyes locked across the Hall, both sharing a single moment of horror and realisation, united in the thought that she couldn't _possibly_ have turned them down for Rosier... but she had.

And how unassuming he looked, a single white rose tucked into his buttonhole to match the one in her hair. His arm was around her waist as he steered her through the crowd, his hair unkempt as always, not a trace of any emotion - triumph or otherwise - on his carefully guarded face.

Severus snarled. He could see Lucius making his way through the crowd, strolling nonchalently towards Narcissa and Rosier as if animosity was the last thing on his mind. But Severus _knew_ Lucius, and he had a feeling that what was about to happen was not going to be pretty, or civilised. The blond-haired Slytherin appeared in front of Rosier with an easy grace, a welcoming smile on his lips. "Rosier! We

thought you weren't coming!"

Rosier's expression faltered. Clearly, this was not the reception he had been expecting.

"And who's this you've brought with you?" Lucius pretended not to realise who Narcissa was. Severus could tell from the sudden narrowing of her beautiful blue eyes that she had not expected this, either. "Why! It's Narcissa Black, famed beauty -" he bowed elegantly, claiming her hand for a gallant kiss, play-acting the role of the handsome nobleman for the crowd of Slytherins around them, but Severus was close enough to hear his room-mate's voice sink to a venomous whisper - "And _bitch_ of Slytherin."

Narcissa didn't have time to react - Lucius then grabbed Rosier's arm. "It's so _nice_ to see the two of you having such fun! Why don't we go over here - yes, that's right, just over this way a little -"

Severus's high opinion of Rosier's intelligence was notably diminished when the dark-haired boy actually allowed Lucius to lead him away from Narcissa, towards the tables near the doors of the Hall where the drinks were being served. Severus passed his drink to Lestrange, who had a similar expression of grim determination on his face. "Things are about to get pretty fucked up," Lestrange muttered. "Any idea what

Malfoy's up to?"

Severus shook his head. Lucius had managed to manoeuvre Rosier through the doors leading to the Hall and into the passage beyond, a stone pillar blocking him from view. They pushed past a group of Gryffindors, almost knocking one of them over in their haste; Lestrange apologising briefly as they passed - "Oops, sorry, didn't see you there -" but Severus just snarled at the delay.

A brief flash of light, twinkling and green, hardly enough to be noticed either by the teachers or the assembled students. Severus realised that a band had started playing, something smooth and low, enough to divert attention from the very Slytherin drama that was playing out in the passage outside.

"Wh-what -" Avery started to say, his eyes darting nervously between Lucius and Severus.

"Oh, go away, Avery," Lucius snapped. "This has _nothing_ to do with you."

He looked up, and a vicious look contorted his perfect features as he looked at Lestrange. Bellatrix's boyfriend flinched visibly. "Or _you_, Lestrange. This is about some little upstart -" and he kicked Rosier's lifeless form, making his head loll sickeningly on his shoulders, "Who meddled in something he had no right to."

Rosier was leaning propped up against the pillar, so with any luck it would look to the teachers as if he had just come outside and sat down to take a rest from the dancing. His eyes were open, but staring into space, a faint greenish tint to his face, as if he was about to be sick. Severus was surprised - he hadn't even imagined that Lucius could cast that spell without mother and father holding his hands. Behind Lucius, other people were gathering, transfixed: Bellatrix, looking regal, eyes filled with darkness; Wilkes, who had only just arrived, and was looking perplexed; Avery, almost hiding behind Clarissa to avoid Lucius's eyes.

Remarkably, the band kept playing; the Ball continued in the background. No-one had noticed Lucius hexing Rosier almost to the point of death. And if they had, who would have tried to intervene?

Severus swore under his breath. So like Lucius, to want to make his point in front of the whole group. To assert his superiority over the pack. He clenched his fists, took a deep breath.

"All right, Lucius, you've made your point." He said quietly, stepping forward. Lucius turned to face him, anger and some kind of hapless joy dancing in his grey eyes. A small intake of breath, as everyone around them tried to take one step back at the same time.

"You've made your point. Now just - undo - whatever you've done to him." Severus looked at Rosier, eyes horribly vacant. "The only thing he's done wrong is to invite a pretty girl to a dance without paying attention to his place in the _stupid_, petty little pecking order that your family has ordained. It's all irrelevant, who gets Narcissa. I don't care, now just -"

Lucius sneered. "You're _presuming_ to tell me what to do?" He took a step forward, voice suddenly silky. "Obviously unaware of YOUR place in the pecking order, darling Sev."

Oh, the arrogance in his eyes as he stood there, all white-blond hair and perfect poise. Severus fought to keep his voice steady. "Just let Rosier go, Lucius."

"She kissed you," Lucius said quietly. "She kissed _you_, when she was _mine_."

He reached out, his fingers tracing over Severus's face, cool and appraising. Lucius's hands drew him near, and Severus heard Bellatrix hiss. The cold touch of Lucius's hands made Severus shiver, leaning into him although his mind was screaming at him to pull away. This slow, languid, very _public_ touching... "Why you?" Lucius asked, close enough now for Severus to see the heat inside his eyes, feel the warmth of his breath, too close to break away. "Why you?" Lucius repeated, his voice no more than a whisper.

"Lucius..."

Then, out of nowhere, came the shattering. Severus had enough time to register a blur of movement before Lucius hit him, hit him hard, making him fall backwards onto Rosier's limp body. He felt pain flare up a few heartbeats later - warm sticky wetness in his mouth, a dull throbbing in his temples. His breathing was hard.

Lucius just stood there, surrounded by the other Slytherins. A buzz of whispers, but no-one came forward, held back by the sight of Lucius Malfoy, so dark and terrible, blood spotting the whiteness of his elegant ruffled shirt.

Then Narcissa was pushing through the group, her eyes wide and bright. She still looked perfect, not a single hair out of place.

"Lucius! Oh, are you - are you hurt?" her voice faltered. She looked as if she was about to throw her hands around his neck, then stopped, then stepped back. The look which Lucius turned on her was one of sheer amazement, as if he had forgotten who she was. Then she noticed Severus and Rosier, and screamed.

"Severus!" No self-assured poison in her voice NOW.

Terribly alone, in the circle of dark-clad Slytherins, like a butterfly in a dark room.

There were sudden tears in her eyes. Severus caught his breath - seeing her mask crumbling.

"Can't you cope with it now, you little _bitch_?"

All eyes turned to Bellatrix. She was almost radiating fury. Narcissa trembled, and made a move as if to turn and run. But Lestrange stepped in front of her, blocking her way. Bellatrix's arm shot out and grabbed Narcissa by the wrist - painfully, from her sudden gasp.

"What was the _first fucking thing_ we learnt as children? _Don't_ play games if you can't deal with the consequences. Don't mess with people's _lives_ - " and here Bellatrix stepped even closer, making Narcissa let out a small whimper of fear, "If you don't _know_ what you're doing. You've ruined Severus and Lucius, with your little flirtations and come-hither glances. Look at them. And I suppose you though it would be _fun_."

Bellatrix grabbed a large handful of beautiful, tousled hair, and Narcissa squealed. "You thought it would be _fun_, didn't you?"

"No - no, I never meant -"

"Oh, shut up," Bellatrix sneered. "Stop _whining_, Narcissa. All my life I've been dealing with your nasty little voice and your pathetic little games. I've seen Lucius unable to sleep -" Lestrange flinched, "And Severus getting hurt."

Bellatrix leaned closer. "You've had a good attempt at wrecking everything between the two of them, just because you thought it'd be fun to have a pretty blond and a brooding intellectual kill each other over you, when you're _nothing_ to them. Nothing compared to what they are to each other."

She let Narcissa go.

"Snivelling little sister. Go back to your toys and your perfumes and your bloody, ceaseless, _insipid_ shopping trips."

Silence. The slow, throbbing music flooded in to fill the space, the sound of hundreds of students talking, laughing, enjoying themselves. Narcissa picked herself up. Her eyes darted from Bellatrix to Lucius, and then to Severus.

Bellatrix was right. She did look like nothing.

"And if you try to come between them again, then..."

"Bellatrix, shut _up_! Shut the fuck up!" Lucius yelled. He strode over to Narcissa, offering his hand.

Severus could see the silent promise in his eyes as he looked at her. "I won't hurt you." But Narcissa shrank away. She was trembling, long strands of her artful hairdo falling down onto her left shoulder, the white rose long since losing petals.

"No - don't..." she whispered, her throat dry. She looked to Severus again, as if she was looking for help.

He shook his head, languidly.

Then she ran.


	8. Chapter Seven

"Couldn't find them?" Severus asked, strolling casually into their study as if nothing had happened. The room was lit by a single candle on the desk, casting more shadows than light onto the walls, picking out the paleness of Severus's skin, the strange gleam in his eyes, the almost arrogant way he leant against the door-frame, looking deliciously aristocratic in his suit.

Lucius swore under his breath, unable to do anything except lean against the desk, his face hidden by white-blond hair. He'd searched the entire castle, from top to bottom, and when he'd returned to the Ball, Rosier had disappeared too. He remembered the mocking smirk on Lestrange's face; he was losing it, he was losing control of the Inner Circle, and all because of some stupid little girl who'd whimpered and crumbled the second her scary big sister had turned on her. So shoddy, this - _thing_ - that had captivated him.

But he'd be damned if he was going to admit it.

He could hear Severus come into the room, close the door behind him with a soft click. He snarled inwardly.

"Sev, leave me alone."

"You don't mean that," Severus said coolly. "If you did, you wouldn't be in here."

Lucius hated the self-assurance in his voice. Stupid, stupid, stupid. "Sev, _go_ _away_," he spat, looking up into deep, dark eyes. The intensity of Severus's gaze made him shudder but he refused to back down, his Malfoy pride preventing him just walking out. He had to assert himself over _something_, or what would he be?

Oh, he'd been so _stupid_.

He felt Severus's hand on his shoulder, and snatched it away. "Don't fucking pity me, Sev," he snarled, standing up. "I'm going to kill him. I'm going to find him, and I'm going to slit his throat, and skin him alive. And I'll make Narcissa _watch_."

Severus let him get as far as the door before he spoke, voice silky and compelling.

"By the way... am I good?" Malice glittered in Severus's eyes as he leant casually against the sofa, arms folded.

"What?"

"When I'm kissing you - _touching_ you - in your dreams. Am I good? I feel I've got a right to know."

Lucius swore under his breath.

"What, you're going to kill Lestrange now as well? There goes the Quidditch team."

"_Shut up!_" Lucius shouted, feeling a horrible sense of everything crumbling around him. "Just shut up Sev!"

"Why should I?" Severus smiled. "Are you going to _make_ me, Lucius?"

Lucius wheeled around and tried to hit him. Unfortunately, Severus was too fast for him - grabbing Lucius's arm, he pulled him over and onto the sofa on top of him in one fluid motion. Lucius tried to struggle, but the long-fingered hands on his shoulders were surprisingly strong, forcing their lips to meet.

All the fight went out of Lucius in one sudden breath.

He felt himself melting into Severus, intensely aware of all the places they were touching - Severus's cool hand on the back of his neck, gently stroking the exposed skin; their chests pressed together, allowing him to feel the rhythmic pulse of his room-mate's heart-beat and the shaky hammering of his own; Severus's breath, warm on his face.

He offered no resistance as he was pulled downwards again, his eyes meeting the darkness in Severus's with ravening want. Lucius felt a raw, visceral shock run through him as their lips touched again - but this time Severus opened his mouth slightly, and Lucius could taste the wine on his breath, spicy and warm. He responded hesitantly, freeing one of his arms so that he could reach up and touch Severus's hair; he was SO intense, Lucius realised dazedly, and kissing him - oh god, he was _kissing_ him - felt so...

Lucius broke the kiss, swearing under his breath.

"Very smart, Sev." He felt a sudden, powerful ache in his chest, something gnawing away at him inside. Something flickered in Severus's eyes. "Very _fucking_ smart. I guess I'm not the only one around here who can use a Love Potion."

Severus looked deep into his eyes, raking over his soul. He laughed, softly. "What makes you think I had to?" He shifted sinuously under Lucius, making the blond-haired boy _very_ aware of the position they were in... allowing Lucius to feel hardness pressing against his hip. Lucius swallowed, and looked away.

"You bastard." His voice came out a lot shakier than he intended, but he tried to blame it on the wine he'd drunk before going to the Ball. "You set me up - you and Lestrange - I guess this is your way of getting back at me..."

"For what?"

"For Narcissa."

Severus laughed. "You think I _wanted_ her? And I'm pretty sure you didn't either." He gave Lucius a look which smouldered, all black hair and black suit and swollen, just-been-kissed lips. Lucius swallowed hard, trying to find that famous self-assurance, heat rising to his face. He shook his head, unwilling to meet Severus's eyes, feeling how horribly tempting it would be to just lie back down in his arms and let Severus touch him.

Severus sighed, pushing Lucius off him. "Fine. You can be in denial if you want, Lucius. But if you go into your room, I think you'll find that the rest of the Love Potion you brewed for Narcissa was, in fact, borrowed by Bellatrix earlier this evening in an attempt to repair the damage done by your, ah, admissions to Lestrange under the Veritaserum."

"Which YOU brewed," Lucius snapped, getting up. He could feel his heart thudding as he looked down at Severus sprawled out on the couch. A moment before, he'd been lying on top of him...

The note was, indeed, there. And Lucius had seen Bellatrix's signature enough times to know that it was genuine. He crumpled it into a tight little ball, dropping it to the floor.

Severus was still lying on the couch, with his hair falling onto the crimson cushions like a stream of black ink, black tie undone and half-pulled off - when had _that_ happened? - and white shirt crumpled, the near-darkness in the room making the pallor of his skin almost luminescent. Lucius's eyes lingered on Severus's full lips, as a slow, vicious smile played over the dark-haired Slytherin's face.

"Tell me you don't want this, and it's over," he whispered, extending a pale hand towards Lucius. "I'll accept that all the bickering, and the rivalry, and the tension, is all because we're Slytherins, and it's what we _do_ - not because there's something deeper. But this is your _last_ chance, Lucius."

Lucius thought of the last few weeks, and what it would be like to be without Sev, and why Bellatrix's words at the Ball had cut to the quick.

Silence, except for the ragged sound of Lucius's breathing.

Severus's eyes shimmered, and for a second Lucius could see into them as he never had before. So, this was Severus, and they were so _alike_...

Silence.

Something inside Lucius gave way. "Sev, I -"

"I knew you'd see it. _Eventually_."

And then Severus was kissing him, his mouth hot and hungry, hands clenched almost painfully in Lucius's hair, kissing him with an intensity that almost _hurt_. Lucius pressed himself against his room-mate, feeling his arousal rub against Severus's answering hardness, making his vision cloud over. Severus's tongue was in his mouth, warm and slick, and Lucius responded fiercely, lips bruised, body aching with want.

"Always did look sexy in evening wear," Severus murmured into Lucius's open mouth, pushing him back into the cushions, long fingers deftly undoing his room-mate's bow tie, pulling it off, then setting to work on the buttons of his shirt. Lucius gasped, overwhelmed by the immediacy of what they were doing, fighting against the feeling of losing control. A few hours ago, he'd _punched_ Sev - he ran his fingers over the bruise, feeling Severus flinch away with a hiss of intaken breath. Severus had finished now, and Lucius tried not to make a sound as his cool hands skimmed over Lucius's bare chest, following its contours, stroking possessively; a moment later, Severus's lips descended on the warm skin, trailing a wet path over Lucius's collarbone.

"Sev -"

"Oh Lucius, _please_ shut up and stop spoiling the moment."

Lucius half-smiled, suddenly aware that one of them, at least, must have known that this would happen. Severus's shirt came away easily to Lucius's searching fingers, after a few false starts with the top button, and he revelled in the sensation of skin against skin, warm and slightly damp. Lucius buried his hands in Severus's hair, clenching them involuntarily as his room-mate licked teasingly at Lucius's nipples, hot breath tantalising as he withdrew, then darted his tongue over the pale plains of Lucius's chest, then returned and started to suck. Lucius stifled a moan, kissing the side of Severus's neck, pulling at the tender skin until he was _very_ sure that marks would be evident to the whole of Slytherin in the morning. He wanted to _own_ Sev, to _have_ him. Whatever else he'd lost, he could have this.

He arched upwards into Severus's arms, leaving the soft warmth of the velvet against his damp skin, needing to feel Severus's hardness against his. Severus smiled slightly, a little breathless himself, rubbing against Lucius as he let his teeth graze Lucius's nipple, making his room-mate almost howl with frustration.

"Ah, the Malfoy need for instant gratification," Severus murmured drily. Lucius kissed Severus hard,

shaking. He closed his eyes as Severus slid a hand between his legs, brushing gently against his straining erection through layers of expensive, well-cut fabric. "Was that - a _whimper_, Lucius?"

"Fuck off," Lucius mouthed. Then, aware that Severus's eyes were mocking him even as his hand rubbed tantalisingly over Lucius's arousal - "Fuck _you_."

"Oh, the witty retort to _that_ would be _far_ too easy," Severus whispered, his breath hot in Lucius's ear, sending tingles of anticipation down his spine. Lucius ran unsteady hands down Severus's bare back, dipping below the waist-band of his room-mate's trousers. Severus bit his lip, leaning into Lucius's touch, then his hands were pulling off Lucius's belt, struggling with buttons, normally deft fingers now shaking and clumsy.

"Sev, oh - " and Lucius cursed himself for how desperate, how _needy_ he sounded. Severus made no sharp comment, his breath coming almost as fast as Lucius's now, hair falling into his face, pulling free his room-mate's devastatingly expensive trousers. They slid off easily, pooling onto the floor in a whisper of costly fabric, and Lucius was practically begging Severus to touch him.

He'd been touched before, but this touch - Sev's touch - flayed him alive.

It lasted only a moment before their lips met again, and both of them were panting now, kissing greedily, all tongue and wetness and hot searing skin. Severus's eyes were open, staring into Lucius's like darkness made visible, and his hand was hot between Lucius's legs, rubbing him slowly, making Lucius gasp and writhe. Then, with a mocking smile and a half-murmured "Lucius," he slipped his hands inside the blond boy's underwear.

This was... time stopped for Lucius with the first touch of Severus's skillful, talented fingers on bare flesh.

And realisation flooded back. The Malfoy heir, on his back and naked, being pleasured slowly and teasingly by his dark-haired room-mate. Lucius swallowed -

"Sev, I can't, please, this isn't -"

"This _is_ - "

Severus covered Lucius's mouth with his own, taking the lower lip between his teeth, making Lucius struggle. For a second, all Lucius's nights and dreams flashed back to him, and he smiled against Severus's lips, arching up into that delicious, perfect touch. He wanted this, he knew now. He wanted Sev's touch, his mouth, his hands, wanted to possess him. His hands tangled in Severus's hair, pulling him closer, wanting to merge them into one, the light and the dark together. Severus bent down, lips on Lucius's neck, nipping the skin lightly, leaving his mark on the pale flesh. Lucius closed his eyes, losing himself in the feeling of Severus's hands on his erection, all the fight leaving him.

"...Good?" Severus's voice was teasing.

"Mmmm..."

"...Good."

Severus had pulled off his clothes as well, Lucius realised, and they were twining together, the candlelight casting long shadows in the hollows of their naked bodies, licking over pale bare skin, caressing Severus's black hair. He reached down to find Severus's hardness, curling his fingers around the needy flesh, squeezing involuntarily, making Severus close his eyes and moan softly. Lucius felt a predatory smile creep across his face as he started to stroke. Severus's tongue flickered on the tip of Lucius's ear, making him squirm into Severus's hands, silently begging him to touch harder, stroke faster, _now_. The Malfoy need for instant gratification... Lucius writhed against Severus, hearing his room-mate start to gasp, breath coming hard.

"How - how much was this sofa, Lucius?" Sev's eyes were play-innocent, and Lucius felt something unfamiliar tug at him inside as he tried to get enough breath to answer.

"Probably more than a small castle in Eastern Europe," he managed to get out.

"Isn't _that_ a shame," Severus said softly in Lucius's ear, hot breath and silky voice, fighting for air. His hands were moving faster, Lucius realised dazedly, hard and slick with sweat, and his room-mate bent his head to play with Lucius's nipples, dark hair stroking too-hot skin, tongue teasing. Lucius felt himself start to move involuntarily under Severus's strokes, wrapping an arm around his back, pulling him close. He pushed upwards into Severus's hands, forcing a rhythm, squeezing and stroking Severus's erection with a similar intensity. Nothing but movement, and heat, and the soft sound of Severus moaning under his touch... and then pleasure, nothing but blinding pleasure and the feeling of melting into his... room-mate? Lover? Fellow Slytherin. Lucius was half-aware that he was almost sobbing with pleasure, a yearning sound, the blood pounding in his ears as the wave of sensation crashed over him, Severus warm and slick and hard beneath his hands...

A half-stifled gasp.

Silence.

And then Lucius was intensely aware of the fact that he was wrapped around Severus, their bodies sticky and hot, not to mention the expensive antique sofa that had probably just been ruined...

"Leave it to the House Elves," Severus said, as if reading his thoughts. "They're bred not to ask questions." His voice sounded uncertain, a little shaky. Lucius reached up, brushing the dark hair out of Severus's eyes, kissing him briefly but firmly on the lips. He didn't want to think about what had just happened, beyond the fact that it obviously _had_. A look passed between them, and he inwardly sighed with relief at its complicity - obviously, while Sev had known it was going to happen, he hadn't thought about _after_...

"Sleep?" he asked, wanting to keep the conversation to a blessed minimum, at least until he'd had time to think. Time to consider the Malfoy heir's position on lying naked and breathless, coming so hard it was difficult not to scream, kissing confused and disorientated, with his - male - room-mate.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Tired out?"

Lucius mouthed 'fuck off' at him, and started to get up.

"Your room or mine? Yours is nicer..."

Lucius considered for a moment. "Let's say yours. No-one's likely to come looking for you first thing tomorrow morning." He could see Severus thinking it over, hair falling over swollen lips, face slightly flushed, beautiful. "Okay? Sev?"

Severus smiled, eyes feral and Slytherin. "Only if you wear those pyjamas."

"Deal."

Liked it? Try the sequel, Slytherin Fire: 


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